Story Seeds
by LordJingles
Summary: Collection of odds, ends, and whatever else I've got laying around.
1. Hulking out

Disclaimer: I own some stuff. Not Harry Potter, or anything in that universe.

This is one of those 'collection of story seeds' things. Figure it's good practice.

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Sirius was falling. Arching gracefully, Harry watched the only person he'd ever felt any love for slip away. Remus' arms tightened around his middle, holding him in place.

Something inside him snapped. Harry started struggling to get clear of the wolfman's grip. Stronger than a normal wizard, Remus was able to hold the raven haired boy away from the veil. Taking a deep breath, Harry let the rage inside himself swell and grow. He now only saw red, electricity making his nervous system scream with tension. He felt strength coursing through his body and took full advantage of it without any conscious thought.

Twisting slightly, he grabbed one of Lupin's wrists and peeled the man's grip loose as if he were nothing more than a child wrapped around his waist. Remus' eyes went wide as he realized something was very, very wrong. Letting the fury inside himself direct his magic, Harry felt it roaring through every single cell of his being. His clothes grew tighter with each breath he took, tears leaking out of his eyes. His face was stuck in a rictus of anger and rage. Growling deep in his chest, he felt his shirt give way, ripping apart at the seams as his body continued to transform. In a few short seconds, Harry Potter had gone from a mere slip of a teenage child to something different.

There were many legends that might have related themselves to what was happening to Harry, but the only one that really applied was that of the berserkergang. It had often been said that Harry had inherited his mother's 'red headed fury' as he had been prone to angry outbursts before. This eclipsed them all as the light of a single candle might have been outshone by the light of a thousand white hot suns blazing in the sky.

A thin line of spittle had begun to drip out of the side of Harry's mouth as he turned, very slowly, to face Lucius Malfoy. The white haired man blanched with fear, having some kind of idea of what he was seeing. He pointed his wand at the growling teen and started cursing.

He might as well have been throwing handfuls of peanuts for all the good it did, as Harry moved to attack with such ferocious speed that he hadn't even had to dodge. He simply wasn't present where the curse had been thrown. One heartbeat after the curse had left Malfoy's lips, so too had his life left his body. Harry hit the man at full speed with a mighty forearm, snapping his neck in an instant. As Malfoy fell, Harry kept moving, latching onto the man's robes with both hands and heaved him into another pair of people, sending them crashing to the floor.

Coming to a stop, Harry roared at the top of his lungs. An unholy sound that rattled the walls and made everyone present quake in fear. Remus Lupin had heard animal sounds like that before from some of the wizarding world's mose fearsome beasts. Never before had he heard something quite like this - it was an angry sound, promising a horrifying and painful demise to whomever was foolish enough to have invoked the wrath behind it.

The boy hadn't stopped moving, instead had adjusted his course and was moving around the perimeter of the room with horrifying speed. This broke the Death Eaters out of their stupor as they dropped whomever they'd been holding and started sprinting, pell-mell for the door to the death room. Harry caught them at the door, stomping over them in an obvious attempt to reach Bellatrix Lestrange. Taking two Death Eaters, one in each monstrous hand, the enlarged teen smashed them together with a wet slopping sound. Weasley turned away from the scene to be sick on the floor and Longbottom collapsed to his knees, shaking. Dropping the corpses, he roared again and bounded down the passage in pursuit of the remaining villains.

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The order members had collected everyone from the death room, and were now heading out to the main ministry entryway. They weren't moving quickly which was for the best, as Harry wasn't leaving any survivors in his wake. They could hear him engaged in some sort of destructive mayhem up ahead.

The children were all huddled together, behind Lupin and Shacklebolt. As they were about to enter the main ministry foyer, a pale and shaken Albus Dumbledore met the group and stopped them.

"Sweet Merlin, wait," he said as he held himself up with the wall.

Having seen all manner terrible wartime atrocities, Dumbledore should have been the last person to quail in the face of what Potter had become. Some sort of crash sounded from the atrium, followed by some high pitched screaming. Albus cringed terribly, and fumbled around in his robes. "Kingsley, I'm going to create a portkey to the infirmary at Hogwart's. I want all of you to take it. Right now"

Nodding, the auror helped the injured to all get close enough to use the magical item and as they all whisked away, the man wondered what could possibly have been going on to cause Dumbledore such distress.  
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As the portkey activated, Albus Dumbledore gathered his resolve and turned back to the atrium to see what sort of aid he could render. Walking out into the open again, he arrived just in time to see Harry slamming Lestrange's unconscious body into a wall while gripping an ankle. She was a barely recognizable mess of flesh and wounds, obviously mortally wounded. Harry had blood all over himself, none of it his.

"Harry," said the Headmaster. "Harry Potter. Look at me"

As Harry turned in a crouch to eye the old man, his blood red eyes coming to rest locked with Dumbledore's. He dropped Bellatrix, her corpse hitting the floor with a wet squishing sound. Dumbledore suspected that there wasn't a single bone larger than a matchbook that was still intact. The headmaster observed again the horrific changes that had been wrought upon the Potter boy's body. Likely around seven feet tall, and hundreds of pounds of muscle were all packed onto his colossal frame. The most striking change was the palpable rage pouring off the boy's aura.

"Now I need you to..." Dumbledore was interrupted by the sound of someone apparating into the atrium. Harry whirled and lunged at the interloper with a feral cry, spittle hanging loosely from his lips.

Voldemort had arrived in the atrium to join the battle against the Order of the Phoenix members. What he didn't expect to see was a berserk and enlarged Harry Potter tearing at him with furious purpose. His eyes wide, he started casting and cursing as fast as he was able. Stunners had no effect, same with cutting curses. By the time the third curse left his lips, Tom Riddle realized he might have made a mistake he couldn't recover from as one large hand grabbed him by the face and launched him bodily into a wall.

Albus Dumbledore had seen a great many things in his life. Now he was witnessing something that completely defied his ability to comprehend it. Wisely, he chose to observe from a place of cover. Lord Voldemort was casting curses as fast as he was capable of - both direct damage spells as well as transfiguring debris and flinging elemental effects at Harry. All to almost no effect at all.

The floos in the atrium started lighting up, and it was all Dumbledore could to to pull everyone out of harm's way and cast a 'blocking' spell to close them all off before anyone else got pulled into the crossfire.

Voldemort was panicking. The monster moved far too fast for him to catch a killing curse, seemed immune to most every bit of elemental magic he was capable of casting. This fight wasn't going well and he knew it. He had to get out of the ministry and figure out how to deal with this new threat. His musings cost him precious seconds and he failed to dodge out of the way quickly enough to keep Potter from getting a grip on one of his ankles.

"Let go of m..." Lord Voldemort didn't have time to finish before he was bodily slammed into the statue in the fountain. Potter was using the Dark Lord as a cricket bat and attempting to bludgeon the statue into stone chips. Agony was all Voldemort knew, his body snapping and breaking under the horrible forces being directed to it. He felt one of the boy's feet stomping his ribs as he was shoved under the fountain water's surface. "This must be the power I know not," he mused in a daze as he succumbed to blessed unconsciousness.

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A week later, at Hogwart's, Harry found himself sitting in the Headmaster's office feeling a little nervous.

"Well, Harry. I must say, you've certainly managed an inventive method of dealing with the Dark Lord." Dumbledore was chuckling outwardly, as a cold fear gripped his stomach. He was sitting in the presence of one of the fabled true berserkers and it wouldn't do to get the boy angry. Albus knew he wouldn't like Harry when he was angry.

"I'm just glad we all got back ok and nobody was permanently hurt." Harry was really a little worried. His past experiences with the wizarding world made it clear that he was always under public scrutiny and he was currently in one of the 'negative public opinion' moments.

Nodding, Albus popped a Lemon Sherbet into his mouth and considered what to do next. It's not like he could punish Harry for his actions, for he'd been quite justified in his rage - nobody was denying that. It's just the ferocity of his methods that had the public in complete fear of him. The ministry had been able to strip Tom Riddle of his magic, basically locking him into the broken and battered body Harry had all but destroyed. Horcruxes or not, Riddle wasn't going anywhere. The Dark Lord's reign had been decisively ended in just one night, all thanks to the efforts of one black haired child and his unholy rage.


	2. memories for one, POWER for the other

This one might end up getting a couple more chapters added later on - but it's been lurking around, waiting to see the light of day.

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The tears ran down her cheeks as she fumbled with the knife. Trying as hard as she could, she was unable to make the deep cuts into her own skin that would free her from slavery - from possession.

Ginny Weasley was trying to kill herself.

Her first year at Hogwart's had been an unmitigated disaster, resulting in her almost dying at the hands of a dark shard of an evil lord's spirit. Only the timely intervention of one Harry Potter had forestalled the completion of the act. The problem was, he hadn't come quite quickly enough.

Since she'd gotten home, Ginny had been plagued by bone crushing depression, nightmares, and eventually a burning desire to see the thing ended. She knew that while Tom Riddle hadn't finished what he'd started before Harry had destroyed the diary - that the dark lord had finished enough to have a toehold in Ginny's soul. He wasn't completely in control, but he surely wasn't gone. He couldn't take over any more, but she couldn't get him to leave either.

She was going mad, and couldn't see another way out.

Trying again to slit her wrists, she felt her arms go rigid as the blade was just about to bite into her flesh. With an anguished scream, she flung the knife into the dirt.

"Why can't I do this? What is preventing me?!" she sobbed.

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Night swept in, leaving Ginny staring at the ceiling of her room. As she drifted off to sleep, she considered what it was going to feel like to go back to Hogwart's and if her parents were going to hate her forever once she finally managed to end herself.

Blackness. All the young girl could see was blackness.

"Kind of odd, really. That this is so dark, that it's able to be seen," she mused idly.

"I've always had a weakness for the dark myself, Ginevra"

Ginny felt her insides go ice cold. She knew that soft voice. She'd had that voice whispering in her ear for the last year, her only friend. Her only confidant.

"Who's there?" she whispered into the inky blackness. "Show yourself"  
Stepping out of the shadow, holding a wand with a glowing tip, a sixteen year old Tom Marvolo Riddle came into view.

"Hello, Ginevra"

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She stared in muted horror at the young man in front of her. She'd felt his possession dreams so often during the school year, that she knew exactly that's what she was having right now.

"What do I do?" she thought with horror. "He's still inside me. Oh gods, he's still inside me"

"Please, Ginevra. I've come to make peace with you," said Tom, calmly.

Her voice shaking, "The only way for that to happen would be for you to leave me"

Waving the wand, Tom conjured up a small table and some chairs. Gesturing for her to sit, he took a seat himself. "I'm afraid we're going to have to come to some arrangement. Like anyone that is alive, I have a very strong desire to remain so. However, since your friend destroyed my diary - I have no way to leave you, and since we were interrupted before I finished my original task, I'm not strong enough to just take you over completely." His voice was calm and smooth, giving no outward indication of the weight of his words.

Ginny took a seat. "I know, Tom," she whispered. "I know all this. That's why I want to end. I can't bear living another day knowing that such a foul creature is within me." She looked down at the school robes her dream self was wearing. She felt as if the black cloth was permanently stained with corruption and filth.

Dirty. That's how Ginny Weasley felt, and she hated it with every ounce of her being.

"Ginevra, if you die, I die with you. It's in my best interests to find a way to help you"

"Help me?" her voice was getting louder. "Help me?! Are you... are you joking? You tried to steal my soul! My very LIFE." Her blood was hot in her cheeks as she raged at the boy. "And you dare to say you want to help me?" Her voice had dropped to a furious hiss.

Holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Will you at least hear me out? You have nothing to lose, Ginevra. I don't have enough power anymore to possess you completely. It's taken everything I had to keep the blade away from your skin"  
She sat quietly, waiting to see what he had to say next. Time was always strange in these dream meetings - passing slowly then quickly.

"Since I've decided it's in my best interests to see that you stay alive and safe, thereby insuring my own continuance, I've come to offer you an alliance of sorts"

"What do you mean, Tom?" Ginny's heart was finally starting to calm down some. The famous Weasley temper sometimes caused one of them to do something brash - but it didn't automatically make them stupid. Well, maybe Ron. But not Ginny.

"Why do you think I made Horcruxes, Ginevra? I was afraid of death. Please understand that the part of me that was in that diary was placed there when I was very young and taking my first shaky steps on the road to becoming immortal, regardless of the cost. Does it then surprise you that I would continue to struggle and fight to retain that immortality even now"

She could certainly see his point of view, even if she herself wouldn't have done the same things he had. Spending a year watching Tom Riddle from inside herself - she was certainly afraid of who he was and what he'd done, but she didn't think him stupid or foolish by any means. He was clever, intelligent, and very powerful - all traits which he'd used to devastating effect initially to draw her in and befriend her.

Tom continued, "I can see that this is killing you - and if it kills you, it kills me. I can't help but do anything to try and prevent that from happening. So, I'd like to come to an arrangement. I want to continue 'feeling'. Life is sensation - I don't have enough power to control you, so I won't even try any more. It's fruitless and therefore insane of me to even continue in the attempt."

A handsome smile came onto his features, "So I would like to offer myself to you"

Ginny sat, rigid. She was shellshocked at this statement, not understanding exactly what he was offering.

"I would like to 'merge' our souls together. You'll get everything I knew up to the point where the Horcrux was made. That also includes the partial magical core portion that I was able to transfer into you as well. In one moment, you'd become one of the most powerful witches of any age. Ginevra, I'm willing to sacrifice my 'self' to make sure I can continue to 'feel' as you live, and to ensure you have the opportunity to live without fear of my possessing you"

"There's only one thing I ask in return"

She looked at him with dark brown eyes, her breath catching in her chest. What could he possibly ask of her that she hadn't already, albiet unwillingly, given to him?

"You must help Harry Potter"

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Harry came tumbling out of the floo at the burrow. He was grateful the Weasleys had agreed to have him come spend the last two weeks of summer with them instead of the Dursleys. He really didn't get on well with them, and his Aunt Marge was coming over to stay for a few days - the timing couldn't have been better.

"Hello, Harry!" said the Weasley Matriarch, scooping him from the floor and into a massive hug.

"mmble mrfle" replied Harry happily as he returned the embrace.

"Why don't you head on outside, young man? I'll have lunch put together in just a while and I know the children will be happy you've arrived"

Nodding, Harry scooted his trunk off to the side and bounded out the back door. He'd always felt that the Burrow was more his home than 4 Privet Drive.

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Ginny slipped along side Harry as he came out the back door smelling vaguely of soot and her mother's cooking. She wordlessly grabbed his wrist and pulled him off the main path over towards her favorite 'thinking tree' as she called it.

"Well hello to you too, Miss Weasley," sputtered Harry as she let go of his arm and sat down.

"Please, Harry. Call me Ginevra," there was something very strange going on behind her eyes. Something that gave Harry pause as he sat down.

Harry looked at the young woman in front of him. They were almost a full year apart in age - but there was something in her eyes that indicated she might be the older one of the two. She was just beginning to bloom into the woman she would eventually become and he could feel the raw power of her magic rolling off of her in very weak waves - just like he could sometimes feel the same from Dumbledore when the older man stood close by.

"Harry, I've got something to tell you. Something so important that it wasn't going to wait another minute. Let me explain, and after I'm done, ask your questions - but not before, okay?"

Harry nodded as she continued. He felt fear clutching his chest, as he was sure this somehow related to that business with the basilisk last year. Thinking about the sixty foot reptile again, the wound it had left behind started throbbing and he found himself idly rubbing his arm in that spot.

"Right now, Harry, you are one of the most powerful wizards of your age. You've got your parents to thank for that." Ginny's eyes were glittering in the sunlight as they bored into Harry's. He found himself a little lost under the intensity of that gaze. "When you saved my life in the Chamber of Secrets, I entered into a life-debt with you"

Opening his mouth to speak, she raised a hand to cut him off. "The reason I've said that is so that you might be able to more readily accept what I've got to say next. When Riddle killed your parents and attacked you, he did more than just leave you a scar. He left a very, very powerful part of himself inside of you"

Harry felt sick. He felt dizzy. His scar started to itch and he started shaking. Ginny moved close and wrapped her arms around him to hold him up. She whispered into his ear, "Harry, he was trying to put a part of his soul into you. However he failed. Your mother's protections caused the Horcrux ritual to misfire"

Nodding numbly, Harry just sat where he was, feeling chilled despite the warm arms holding him close. Ginny continued, "Almost the exact thing happened to me in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry - you caused the ritual to terminate before Riddle had a chance to finish what he needed to. So, I ended up with all his memories up to the point of the diary's creation as well as half of his magical core at that time. Well, not quite half - but close. The fact that you destroyed the diary meant he couldn't finish the ritual and I got to keep what he'd gotten finished up to that point"

She pulled away and looked deep into Harry's eyes. "I am now bound to you, Harry Potter. We both carry a part of Tom Riddle's soul inside of us - and for better or worse, we need to use the power he gave us to defeat him and the rest of his followers. You were given half of his magical core at the peak of his reign of terror, but your mother's protections made sure that his soul wouldn't be able to take root and demolish your identity or personality"

Searching inside himself, Harry was casting around, looking for some clue to hold up and inspect that might verify what Ginny was saying. "But Ginny"

She looked at him intensely as he stuttered, "Er.. Ginevra... I mean, how"

"Have you ever wondered why you have such a hard time with accidental magic? Harry, that sort of thing stops when wizarding children are infants. You have your own magic core, which is obviously very powerful on its own - and you have anther core that's at war with it inside of you. You need to merge the two, and that's what we're going to do"

Ginny got to her feet, taking out her wand and held it, pointing straight to the sky in front of her face. She stared into his eyes as she intoned, "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, pledge my magic, my life, and my very soul to the service of Harry Potter in repayment of the life debt I owe him. My wand is his wand." She started to glow a soft golden color as her magic bound herself into Harry's service.

"Now, let's get your magic core issue corrected," she said, smiling widely.

Harry gave a weak smile along with her.

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	3. Boot to the head

Disclaimer: JKRowling owns all rights to HP, and all published characters.

Notes: The power the dark lord knows not. Man, that could be anything. I'll be writing all kinds of crazy stuff, as I think up different things it could be. Love. Pshaw. That's hardly fun.

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"What a day," thought Harry. He'd accidentally figured out the power the 'dark lord knows not', defeated Voldemort and all of the Death Eaters. Only to be incarcerated by the Ministry for all the 'murders' involved. The icing on the cake was he'd been charged with the cold blooded murder of Tom Marvolo Ridde aka Lord Voldemort through the use of the killing curse.

He'd been sentenced to death for killing the Dark Lord and was now lounging in a Ministry holding cell. The very thought made him laugh. No, seriously. Laugh out loud, and at great length. Harry was supposed to go to Hogwart's for his sixth year in the fall. However, the summer before the school term started he'd kind of snapped. After Sirius had died, it had taken him a full two solid weeks to finish going completely buggernuts insane with rage - but after wallowing in self loathing and pity, he'd decided to finally do something about it all.

He recalled the day quite fondly.

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It was a Tuesday morning when it all went down. He'd gotten up after a long night of horrific dreams. As the first light of the morning sun had splashed across his beadspread, he sat bolt upright. His eyes were wide, abruptly clear for a change. Killing curse green orbs were glinting as if cast as steely marbles. Getting out of bed, he grabbed a full set of clothes and his wand. Walking over to Hedwig's cage, he blasted the lock off with a tiny curse and set her free.

"Fly away, girl. I doubt I'm going to survive the day. If you want, you can go live with Hermione." He lovingly scratched the beautiful owl on the side of her face. She stared at him through wide eyes, looking for all the world like she might break into tears at knowing she had to leave. One last hoot, she pecked at his finger and launched herself out the window into the cool summer air.

He looked around his room, mentally saying goodbye to most everything he'd planned to leave behind. Stepping out, he walked directly into the bathroom and got himself cleaned up. One hot shower later, he was dressed and in the kitchen. A letter was sitting on the dining room table. He only eyed it briefly, spotting the Ministry seal. "Ah, Mrs. Hopkirk. Your owls will be getting quite the workout today"

Harry wasn't about to start concerning himself with improper use of magic issues. They'd have to send someone to deal with him in person if they expected him to actually care. He made himself a full breakfast and ate until he was quite satisfied. Then, just as the Dursleys were waking up to investigate the smells of the good food he'd been cooking, he stepped out the front door with nothing more than the clothes on his back, his wand, and a cup of coffee in his left hand.

Sipping his coffee, he looked around.

"Certainly my minders haven't taken the day off," Harry mused. Shrugging, he simply apparated right to the apparation point in Diagon Alley.

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Harry found himself standing in the early morning bustle of Diagon Alley, sipping the last bits of his coffee out of one of Vernon's favorite mugs. He'd just gotten the dregs when he heard the sound of people apparating in, close to his position.

"There he is! Get him!" Harry recognized Lucious Malfoy's voice as the blonde man advanced on Harry's position along with another figure in black robes and white mask.

Malfoy's first killing curse met Harry's coffee mug in plenty of time to cause the ceramic to explode spectacularly, dusting passersby with bits of pottery.

Harry returned fire with a high powered blasting curse that the man sidestepped.

"Good morning, Lucius! It's too bad you've come so late. I've already had breakfast!" Harry called out, taunting the older man. The only response he got was another killing curse, which he took straight to the chest.

The entire alley went silent, as Harry just stood there. The raven haired lad started chuckling and eventually ended up holding his sides as his laughter carried all the way from the entrance to the alley to the steps of Gringott's.

"Malfoy..." Harry finally managed to contain his mirth. "I guess you never got the memo. So, I'm going to clear some things up for you. Right now"

The boy started firing blasting curses as fast as he could point his wand. Divots of cobblestone were flying all over the place as be started just tearing the alley to shreds around himself. He quickly caught and dispatched Malfoy's companion, blasting him in the arm and then center of the chest. Harry didn't bother with anything fancy - just kept using the same curse again and again.

Harry heard multiple apparation sounds as he'd backed Malfoy up against the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, rapid fire curses just battering the man's shields. Other people had joined in to help Malfoy, but Harry just ignored every one of them - killing curses, stunners, cutting curses - nothing had any effect. They just seemed to be absorbed while Harry kept encroaching on Malfoy who was visibly shaking under the strain of holding a shield against Harry's curses.

"Is that all you've got, bitch-tits?!" Harry screamed at the top of his lungs. He was smiting Malfoy's shield with curse after curse like a jackhammer, his rage fueling them. Malfoy's eyes were wide with fear, his forehead covered in sweat as he knew his last moments were upon him. He kept trying to shift to one side or the other but knew the second his concentration on his shield wavered, he wasn't going to live to take even another breath.

Harry advanced under a hail of curses, ignoring them all. He walked straight into Malfoy's face and stomped on the man's foot. That's all it took to break his concentration and for Harry to stab him right in the soft jowly flesh with his wand. He stared straight into Malfoy's eyes.

"I'll see you in hell, Potter"

"Keep my seat warm, will you? Reducto"

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Harry found himself wondering why the universe found it so amusing to always make him different. He hadn't had any sense that morning when he'd awoken that he'd find himself standing in the middle of Diagon Alley by lunchtime, having slaughtered most of the Dark Lord's inner circle. Especially since he wasn't so much duelling anyone as exterminating a pest.

For whatever reason, Harry seemed to be immune to magic. In entirety. Nothing bounced off or affected him in any way. He just stood there, taking curse after curse. Fire didn't burn, blade didn't cut. If it was magical, Harry simple ignored it. He'd taken to killing Death Eaters in very creative ways. Bellatrix Lestrange proved to be about his favorite. He'd summoned every spoon from the ice cream shop all at once. As they pelted her from behind, he walked up and simply tripped her.

Then he sat on her chest and stabbed her to death with a spoon.

"Because it will hurt more, you moron!" he screamed to nobody in particular. "Come on, I knew SOMEONE was thinking it"

Nobody seemed inclined to get close enough to actually engage him physically - mostly because anyone that got within ten feet ended up getting a full power blasting curse to the face. Difficult to miss at that range. So people stopped trying. In fact, everyone had stopped trying to attack him at all after he'd finished Lestrange. He'd left her there on the ground, spoon sticking out of an eye socket.

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It didn't take very long for every single person to take cover. Oddly enough, it did take a while for a group of Order of the Pheonix members to show up. However they were just as stunned by the carnage that Harry had wrought as anyone else.  
The boy had transfigured himself a pogo stick, and was hopping around the alley, calling out "Moldy Warts! Moldy Warts! Come out and plaaaaay!". It was readily apparent that Harry had totally gone around the bend, and for what?

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Albus Dumbledore slipped into the alley just in time to see Voldemort and Harry lock wands. He wasn't really sure what he should be doing, since he knew that the two were destined to meet this way. The prophecy wasn't really clear on what was to happen next, however. So he did what everyone else was doing. Rubbernecking.

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"Well, Potter. It looks like you've been busy today"

"Yep! Been cleaning house. How about yourself? I had a great breakfast before I got here. Did you eat this morning, Tom? They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day"

The two of them were casually pacing back and forth, electric arcs sparking all over the alley as the brother wand effect kept them from being able to curse one another directly. They seemed to be fairly evenly matched in power.

"You know Potter, you should join me. Nobody has ever stood against me like this. Ever. I don't think you realise what kind of power you've got"

"Actually, Tom, I listened close to the prophecy. It's you that doesn't know what kind of power I've got." Harry started giggling at this, causing Dumbledore to cringe from his place of cover. He found himself very concerned about Harry's sanity at this point.

Voldemort actually growled at Harry, trying to push more and more magic into the connection in an attempt to overload it. Harry responded by summoning a shoe off someone's foot into the back of the dark lord's head.

"Boot to the head." Harry was using Bellatrix's wand in his other hand, conducting like an orchestra maestro.

The older man was so stunned by the sheer audacity of the boy in front of him that he let the curse he'd been holding stop and his wand arm drop. Harry dropped his curse as well, smiling widely.

"Well, old man? Let's see which of us is proof against the killing curse. I'm at least ten for ten today. Avadra Kedavra"  
Voldemort's eyes flashed red for the briefest moment before they went dull and lifeless and his body fell to the cobblestone with a muted thump.

"Well there you have it folks. One lousy killing curse later, and moldy voldy is down for the count!" Harry was talking into the end of his wand like a microphone. "What remains to be seen is if the old man's got it in him to come out of retirement just one more time"

Harry walked up to the corpse while he was talking and gave it a swift kick.

"Doesn't look like it. That's all folks. Good fight, and good night!" Harry took a bow, sweeping his wand arm grandly.

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In a completely predictable fashion, the wizarding world first lauded then vilified Harry Potter. It was public opinion at the trials that the boy had completely lost his mind and was well on his way to becoming a far more powerful and destructive dark lord than Voldemort ever was.

His trials were quick and decisive. Harry found he couldn't care. At the conclusion of it all, they'd sentenced him to be shoved through the veil. He stood to give his last words.

"I only have one request. Luna?" Harry called out to his blonde friend. He'd always thought she was a very nice young lady. Polite, if not a little disconnected. Now he had a frame of reference and could completely understand how that felt. Luna looked at Dumbledore as the old man presided over the proceedings. He gave her a nod and she went down into the center of the room with Harry.

He drew her into a warm hug, and whispered in her ear. "All I want, before I leave, is to kiss you. But I wanted to ask your permission first"

She drew back to look him in the eyes, before leaning in to give him a very warm and loving kiss. It was more than chaste, but containing almost nothing sexual. This kiss was pure magic, however, filling the room with a palpable pressure upon everyone in it. Harry poured himself into it, knowing he was at his end - and wanted to make sure that at least one person in the world felt every ounce of the love he had to give, before he didn't have it to give any more.

Nobody could move to break the two apart. A full minute passed before they separated, smiling. Luna nodded at Harry, and he smiled at her so widely it seemed his face might crack in half from it. Skipping a bit, she left the court room - the door closing the only sound that could be heard.

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By way of comparasin, the trip to the Death Room was anticlimatic. Harry still had a warm blush on his cheeks from kissing Luna, and felt that to pass from this world feeling the way he did wasn't going to be a bad thing. At least he was feeling something.

Staring into the veil, he could hear the voices from the other side. He was, however, pointedly ignoring the Ministry officials as they droned through the list of charges that he'd been convicted of.

"Blah blah blah. This is boring." said Harry. The boy shrugged off the aurors that were holding his arms and started walking towards the veil with purpose. "With any luck, I won't see any of you lot ever again"

He stopped right before the entrance, on the spot where Sirius had been standing when he'd been hit and fell through. He turned to face the crowd.

"Tell them all I said something impressive." With that, the boy turned and stepped into the veil and away from the world forever.

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	4. Help from the future

Disclaimer: JKRowling owns the HP universe and characters. Apparently, all I contribute to it is violence. And pithy one liners.

Notes: This was going along at a hefty clip, until Snape died. Then my muse took a vacation to bermuda and didn't deign to tell me. :)

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Harry's eleventh birthday was quite possibly the strangest day of his life. Something about having his uncle dragging him all over hell's half acre and a cloud of crazy letters following them around, thought Harry.

"And don't forget all that wizarding business." mumbled Harry to absolutely nobody.

After the underground ride home, Harry dragged his new trunk up the stairs into his freshly claimed bedroom. The room was dark and grey as evening fell. Harry sat down on the edge of the small bed, listening to the mattress springs squeaking just a bit. The room smelled somewhat musty, making Harry crinkle his nose to fight down a sneeze.

He moved Hedwig's cage over to the desk and opened the window to let in some fresh air. As Harry looked out over Privet Drive, he saw a postman coming to the front door carrying a small package. Wondering if it was for him, what with it being his birthday and all, he scampered down the stairs to see for himself.

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Harry picked the smallish box up, turning it over in his hands. It was addressed to him, wrapped in a plain brown paper. The paper felt kind of coarse, as did the twine holding the paper in place.

"What's that, boy?" grumped his Uncle Vernon, looking out from the sitting room.

"Looks like a school package, Uncle Vernon." Harry figured it was best to make something up that sounded reasonable. He'd never gotten a package before, but with all the oddness of the last two days, he figured this wouldn't cause much of a stir.  
Huffing and grumbling, Vernon turned back around and went back in to watch more television. Harry took his gift and went up the stairs, closing his bedroom door behind him.

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Harry unwrapped the box, and considered it carefully. It was wooden, with aged brasswork. There was no lock on it - just a simple twisting clasp to hold the box closed. He opened the box, to find another letter, written on the same kind of paper as his original school letter. Harry set the box down on the bed, holding on to the letter. As he unfolded it, he began to read.

"Dearest Harry,  
This has been a very interesting letter to write. There is no possible way I can explain anything on paper, so you're going to have to just trust yourself and follow these instructions.

Pick the top tray up out of the box, take out the wand inside.

Take the small stone bowl out, and tap it with the wand.

Say the word 'enlarge' as you tap.

In the top tray, you will find one crystal vial with something in it.

Pour the vial into the bowl. Touch the liquid with the wand.

Please. Follow these steps, exactly as I've written them, and everything will be made very clear.

HJP"

Harry looked somewhat disturbed. Peering into the bottom of the small box, he pulled out a wand made of some kind of dark wood. He could see a few other items in the box, but spotted the small stone bowl.

Picking the bowl up out of the box, he set it on the bed. He tapped the bowl with the wand.

"Enlarge" said Harry in a quiet voice. The bowl grew until it was a foot and a half wide. Harry dug the vial out of its velvet housing, unstoppered it, and dumped the fimly liquid into the bowl.

His heart pounding madly in his chest, Harry paused to take a deep breath. Then, bracing himself, he dipped the tip of the wand he was holding into the liquid and fell into the bowl.

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Harry found himself standing in a white room. There was an old man sitting in a comfortable looking chair next to a small table. The man was serving himself a bit of tea, and enjoying a biscuit. His white hair was fairly long, and swept back into a ponytail, and the man's beard was also almost entirely white, though there was a black streak right in the center of his chin.

"Hello Harry," spoke the old man quietly. His eyes were twinkling in the monochrome glow of the featureless room. Harry found he could walk around, but that when he did so, the old man's eyes didn't follow him.

"Harry," the old man continued softly, "I've sent these things to you for a very simple reason. I want you to have what I never did. A choice." The old man moved his hand up to his forehead and Harry gasped as he could plainly see an old and faded lightning bolt scar.

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"We can't interact in this memory, young Harry. However, I can give you some information that's going to help you. I'm not going to tell you what's to come, though. There's no point. You could know the entire history of the world from this moment on, but the first time you made a choice that I myself didn't, all that knowledge would be worthless. So. Let's not waste our time on that"

For the next hour, the old man explained Harry's origins and parents to him, pausing only to take a sip of his tea or eat a little more biscuit. He explained that there had been a prophecy made, and that it had started a series of events that had left the young man an orphan. He gave Harry a little bit of useful information about interacting in the wizarding world - how to get around, where to go, that sort of thing.

Harry felt a tear sliding down his cheek as his older self continued. "This is the most important thing I have to give you, young man. You know now what I never did at your age. What you choose to do with it is entirely up to you. In the box I sent, there are two rings - one for your left index finger and one for your right. Once I'm done here you are to put those rings on. I will never know if you have or not, but I'm hoping that you will"

Taking another breath, he continued. "I'm not going to live much longer - but know that I've spent a very, very long time putting things together for you. I want you to go to Hogwart's and enjoy yourself. That's not to say waste your time or slack off or anything." his eyes were twinkling merrily "Just don't worry too much about the future - it's in good hands. One ring is to protect your mind. The damage that was done to you as a baby was very terrible and long lasting." he tapped the scar with a finger. "That ring will take good care of and protect your mind. I guarantee it"

Harry could sense that things were coming to an end as the old man went on. "The other ring deals with the one thing I hated most about all the time I spent at Hogwart's. All that time I wasted, laying in infirmary beds." with that, the old man winked. "Once you put those rings on, nobody's going to be able to take them off of you"

"Our time here is about done, young Harry. There's only one more thing you need to know. Friends are very important. They are vital to being happy and living a successful life. Never, ever forget this. Sadly, Albus Dumbledore is not now, has never been, nor ever will be your friend. He is not your parent, your guardian, nor your mentor. He is the headmaster at the school you're to attend, and as such should be treated that way"

Harry's older self clapped his hands with glee, "So! Once you're out of here, take the wand and lift the memories out of the bowl. Put the tip of the wand to your temple, and the memories will slip into your mind. Under different circumstances, this would be incredibly dangerous since taking someone's memories directly into your own mind is a pretty serious gamble. However, since they're our memories, it shouldn't be an issue. I really hope you have a fine time young man. I know I sure did." with one final smile, Harry found himself flying upwards back out of the bowl.

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Too stunned to even move, Harry stood and stared into the stone bowl. Numbly, he took the wand, swirled the memories around a little, and lifted them out. As he got near his own temple, he felt the feather light touch of the memories as they sought to gain entrance, and the process of them sliding into place was gentle and tender - something Harry had had precious little of to date.

Blinking tears out of his eyes, he looked down into the box again. There was a smallish ring box sitting in the bottom of it. He picked up the box, opened it and looked at the two rings sitting in the black velvet cushioning. He took out a wide silvery band that was covered with runes filled with dark enamel and slipped it onto his right index finger. The wide golden band went on his left. Once both rings were on, Harry realized that everything else - bowl, wand, and box were all dissolving into dust.

A minute later, there was no trace of anything left, except the two rings he was wearing. He found that he was feeling pretty good if not a little hungry.

"Kind of odd that so far, the only person in my life that's shown me any real kindness or love has been me." said Harry, chuckling as he did so.

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The rest of the month before Hogwart's went very smoothly. His relations roundly ignored him, and he found that he was changing - all of it for the better. Every time Harry gave it some thought, he felt his mind organizing itself. It felt like having a large room full of clutter - books, papers, and the like laying everywhere and that the room was cleaning itself up. The effect of this was that Harry was able to read all his school books in advance. Twice.

A week before the train's departure, Harry decided he needed to go back into Diagon Alley to get a few more things. Specifically some information about Hogwart's itself. "Seems odd," he thought, "that nobody thought to get me any books about the place"

His older self had given him a little information to help in this regard, so Harry stepped out the door of his home in Surrey, raised his wand, and called the Knight Bus.

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Harry stepped off the bus in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He had a few more things to pick up, and figured there was no sense in putting it off. He stepped through the pub with a wave and a nod to Tom, the barkeep.

Rolling through Diagon Alley, Harry made his way first into Gringott's bank. Coming to the teller counter, the goblin peered up from a ledger he was reading.

"How may I help you, Mister Potter"

"I Have a problem, sir," started Harry. "Apparently I have a vault here for school expenses, but I don't have a key for it. I also have a couple of questions if you can direct me to someone that can help"

"Let me get an account manager for you, Mister Potter. Please have a seat"

"Thank you, sir." Harry took a seat. After a few minutes, a different goblin came out from a side door and waved Harry through.

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Whistling as he walked out of Gringott's, Harry found himself in a great mood. He'd gotten a new key for his trust vault, asked the goblins to destroy all the old keys, and learned more about his situation in five minutes than he had his entire life to date. He thought it sort of ironic that the goblins were so willing to work with him. The account manager, a goblin named Sharpspear, had offered to destroy all keys - main Potter vault and trust vault. Sharpspear had also very helpfully pointed out that Harry didn't actually need to visit his vault until he wanted to store or remove something other than money. The trust vault key worked as a way to pay for things.

Harry decided he needed a few things other than just a couple of books. He headed over to the trunk shop and wandered around for a bit. The proprietor came out from the back room, and smiled at Harry.

"Hello Mister Potter. How may I help you today"

"Hello, sir!" Harry found it kind of strange that everyone always knew what he looked like on sight, but he felt that the attention couldn't be all bad. "I'm looking for a different trunk. I bought one here a few weeks ago - but it isn't really all that special. Do you have any suggestions"

"That depends on what you're looking for and how much you're willing to spend"

Harry thought about it for a minute. "Well, sir, I'm very new to the magical world. So, I don't really know what your trunks can do. What's the very best? I mean, if I were to see everything you could possibly do with a trunk in one model, that might make it easier for me to pick"

The shopkeeper nodded, and took Harry into the back. There were trunks stacked from the floor to the ceiling.

"Mister Potter, there are many many things you can do with a trunk. However, if I might make a few suggestions.." Harry nodded him on, "I suggest something with a security lock keyed only to yourself. We could do something with shrinking, too. Hmm"

The shopkeeper was rummaging around, scooting large leather trunks out of the way.

"Let's take a look at this one. It was commissioned by a very paranoid ex-Auror. This one's got some very odd features. The normal placement charm so that nobody but you can move it once it's set, and look at this!" He opened the top of what looked like a pretty normal looking black trunk to reveal a small wooden staircase. "There's a small apartment in here. He wanted someplace to retreat to - like a panic room. There's a small kitchenette, bathroom, the works. Honestly, you could hide in here for as long as you had food for it." He smiled widely.

Harry looked thoughtfully at the trunk. He could live in that while he was home at the Dursley's, without them ever noticing him there. It was perfect. "That sounds great, sir! I'll take it"

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This was quite possibly the greatest day of Harry's young life. He picked up a few more books - mostly history of the magical world, and a few other basic magical texts. He thought it sort of odd that these hadn't been recommended by Hagrid when they were here visiting before.

Wandering into the wand shop again, he saw Mister Ollivander finishing up with customer. He waited quietly until the old man was done, the dusty air tickling Harry's nose as he fought off a sneeze.

"Well, hello again Mister Potter. How can I help you"

"Hello, sir. Can I ask you a few questions about wands?" started Harry.

"Certainly, young man," Ollivander's eyes glistened in the dim lantern light. "How can I help"

"Is there something I can read that gives me a good list of all the rules or laws that apply to wands"

Ollivander smiled warmly, and retrieved a small book from a stack of them. "Most people raised in the wizarding world just take this sort of information as given, rarely thinking of the muggleborn or muggle raised. This should have everything you need"

Harry left the shop after having purchased a practice wand and a wrist holster. Something about sticking his wand in a pocket just seemed like a foolish idea.

Purchasing another full potions kit for his trunk, Harry realized he should be getting back home. He made sure he had some owl order catalogs for every shop that offered one, Harry ducked out of Diagon Alley and rode the Knight Bus home.

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Once Harry got back to the Dursley's, he slipped upstairs and into the second bedroom. He unshrunk the trunk on the far side of the room. He'd chosen a spot that couldn't be easily seen by someone standing at the door and completely out of view of the window.

The only benefit to the room he was in was the fact that since it was dusty, cluttered, and terribly lit that it would be almost impossible to actually tell the new chest apart from anything else that belonged there. He opened the window to the room, and opened Hedwig's cage.

"Girl, this is no place for you. Please - I need you to go and find someplace safe to hunt and stay until school starts. I'll meet you at Hogwart's, ok"

Hedwig hooted softly, rubbing her beak on Harry's hand before launching herself out the window. Harry smiled sadly. This family really didn't know what they were missing out on with their terrible fear of magic. Just one more week, and Harry was out of this miserable pit for the next ten months. That didn't mean he couldn't make good use of the time he was still here.

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After reading the wand rules booklet, Harry figured he could get a good head start on magical history and potions. Neither subject needed a wand, and with that in mind, he set to work, spending hours a day working out how to prepare and brew a few really basic potions. Thankful for the extra books he'd picked up, Harry worked up some burn salve, and something called a 'pepper up' potion.

"Oh man, oh man." Harry was drinking something he'd made up by mixing a 'pepper up' potion with a can of cola. "This stuff has some very serious kick. Hoo!" A couple hits of that stuff, and Harry stopped sleeping more than three hours a night.  
He was really happy about the trunk, spending almost all his time inside it either reading at the little desk or brewing potions at the kitchenette table with his second potions kit. The practice wand was pretty great as well. He could practice wand movements and incantations, and if he got the spell right a white bubble would pop out of the end of the wand to let him know.

"Everything comes with manuals. This is bloody brilliant"

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September 1st came sliding in, and Harry was ready for it. He'd packed the night before and was out the door as soon as sunlight hit his windowsill. Figuring that he could put almost everything into his trunk, he made sure he had a couple school books to read as well as his muggle notebooks in his backpack. One of the things Harry found sort of odd about his entry into the wizarding world was the anachronistic approach they took to everything. He couldn't hardly work a quill to save his life - so, he made sure he'd stocked up on pens, pencils, and spiral notebooks.

"I figure they're going to want me to turn everything in on parchment, but that doesn't mean that has to be the first draft I write." thought Harry, chuckling to himself.

He hit the curb at 4 Privet drive at a run, calling out for the Knight Bus. Shortly thereafter, he found himself at King's Cross, and speeding through the barrier on Platform 9 and 3/4. The train was sitting quietly, puffing out bits of steam. Moisture was condensing and running down the sides of the cars, and Harry could smell a touch of oil mixed in with the dewey morning air. Bouncing up the steps, he grabbed a car right in the middle of the train and settled in for a bit of reading, as he was hours early and wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet while he had it.

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Children started filling the train, and before Harry knew it, they were rolling out of the station. Harry was so excited to be on an adventure like this. He thought back, going over the memories he had of his older self. Smiling, he felt like the luckiest kid in the world. He knew that he was loved and protected. Now that he didn't have to worry about the Dursley's any more, he could settle in and focus on having a good time like his older self had said.

It didn't take too long before someone decided to take an interest in his cabin. A redheaded boy looking to be about Harry's age pulled open the door and poked his head in.

"Do you mind if I sit in here? All the others are full"

Harry considered this for a moment, knowing full well that the boy was lying. He decided to see where this was going as he answered. "Sure thing. I'm Harry," he said. "Harry Potter"

The redhead smiled widely, "I'm Ron Weasley! It's great to finally meet you!" The boy was blushing furiously, all the way out to the tips of his ears.

Harry sighed inwardly. He knew, based on the reactions of the people he'd seen in Diagon Alley on his first trip, that things were always going to be like this. His aim was to make some friends that didn't actually care about some bloody scar, and it didn't look like this lad was going to fit the bill. "It's nice to meet you, Ron. Have a seat"

"My mum said you'd be on the train today, but we didn't see you getting on earlier. Figured we'd just missed you or something." said Ron eagerly.

Harry just shrugged and went back to his book. He had chosen one of his history textbooks, as it read like a muggle fantasy novel. It was pretty easy for Harry to remember what was going on since it really was an interesting read.

"Oi," said Ron shortly. "We'll have enough reading for months to come. No sense wasting the train trip too. Let's play some gobstones or something"

Harry looked over the edge of his book at the redhead. Ron was almost bouncing up and down in his seat with excitement. "No thanks, Ron. I'd rather just read. Quietly, if you don't mind." said Harry softly.

Ron blushed again, mumbling, "Bloody mental. Killing curse must have scrambled his brains"

As time passed, the redhead tried again and again to engage Harry in something other than quiet reading. After the fifth unsuccessful try, Harry closed his book and stashed it in his backpack. Since his trunk was still shrunk and in his pocket, he really didn't have anything else to collect.

"It was nice meeting you Ron. Pardon me if I'm being rude, but I'm going to go see if I can find a quieter spot to read. Cheers!" and with that, Harry headed out of the cabin. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and headed down the hallway, looking to see if he could find a spot to sit for a while.

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Harry found a spot in between the car where the wind wasn't too terribly bad. He hunkered down, got out his book again, and picked up where he left off. Generally, Harry wasn't a particularly excitable child. He'd had that trait bashed out of him at a very young age by the family he was living with. This didn't mean he wasn't happy by any means. In fact, while Harry hadn't always had a great childhood, he'd learned how to keep his head down and keep his nose clean. All told, the last month of his life had been far and away the greatest of his life - and now that he was free, he wanted to take every opportunity to enjoy things in the ways that made him feel the best. He'd always really loved to read, doing well enough in school as a result. Though, he always made sure he never did too well on exams. That was another lesson he'd learned early on - do what you can to avoid bringing attention to yourself.

He sighed again and decided to put the book away. Trying to read right now was just a bad job, so Harry just enjoyed the passing countryside. The wind was whipping his already frenzied hair around and he could smell the thick loamy earth the trees were all growing out of. His eyes were closed when someone opened one of the car doors.

"They said Harry Potter was on the train today," said a familiar drawling voice. Harry turned to see the blonde lad he'd originally run into at Madame Malkins. There were two larger boys flanking him, acting for all the world like bodyguards. "I should have known it when I met you the first time. Your scar is quite.. well known"

Harry looked at the three boys over the rims of his glasses. If he didn't know any better, his eyes were somehow improving. He could almost make out fine detail now without looking through the glass. "That's right. I'm Harry Potter." For the sake of politeness, Harry stuck a hand out. "I didn't catch your name the first time"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." he replied. "These two are Crabbe and Goyle. Our fathers are all very well acquainted." The blonde boy took Harry's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"It's nice to properly meet you, Malfoy." said Harry. "Out here for a bit of fresh air, then?" He wasn't totally sure where this conversation was going, but he couldn't really see the point in antagonizing someone without cause.

"Actually, we were looking for you specifically. One of the Weasleys was wandering around, telling anyone who would listen that they'd best watch out for you. That you were mental or something." Draco laughed lightly. "Something about scrambled up brains from the killing curse"

Harry laughed along with Draco, and the two larger boys smirked as well. "Well, he might just have something there. You never know." Harry wiggled his eyebrows and put on a crazy face.

"Enjoy the rest of the ride, Potter. It's going to be interesting to see what house you get into. Potters have always been in Gryffindor, but I'd say you've got the makings of a fine Slytherin as well." Draco and his two mates turned and headed back inside the train car, leaving Harry with his thoughts.

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After the conductor announced that they were almost to Hogsmeade, Harry ducked into a loo to get changed. He took a minute to get cleaned up afterwards and stepped out to go find an exit.

The train pulled in and came to a stop. Once the platform attendants had pulled out the steps and opened up the doors, Harry hopped onto the platform, and looked around. He saw Hagrid waiting nearby and waved to the giant man.

"Hiya, Hagrid!" Harry yelled. Hagrid smiled, his black eyes glinting in the lamplight and his bushy beard quivering a bit.  
Hagrid started yelling for all the first years to follow him, and they were off. Down to the docks they went, to ride small boats across the lake for their first view of Hogwart's. Harry had read about all the first year traditions that were printed in Hogwart's: A History, so very little of this was any kind of a surprise. That didn't kill his sense of awe at the beauty of it all, however.

As they crossed the lake, Harry looked over the side of the boat. The water was a black mirror, and fairly cold as he dipped a hand into it. The boat creaked ever so slightly, rocking as it glided over the surface of the water. Coming under a viney overhanging, Harry got his first look at Hogwart's. His breath caught in his throat, and he started tearing up. He'd never seen a castle before, outside of pictures at least and the sight was overwhelming. Harry hadn't been paying any attention at all to the other first years in the boat with him, and didn't much care what they might be thinking as he wiped the tears out of his eyes.

"This is the most beautiful thing I think I've ever seen." whispered Harry in awe.

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The boats landed on the shore, and all the students were herded up to the castle proper. Hagrid let them all in, and introduced them to Professor McGonagall.

"Follow me, please. We're going to get all of you sorted before the arriving feast can start. Your things will be taken care of, so you've nothing to worry about there." the prim woman had very severe features, her hair tied up into a bun that hid under a tall pointed hat.

Harry couldn't help but smile. "She may have an iron exterior", he thought "but the laugh lines around her eyes give her away.

There were some squeaks of surprise in the back of the first year crowd, and Harry turned around to see the castle ghosts floating through the walls. These ghosts were also pretty well documented, so Harry didn't have any problems picking them all out as they wafted into the Great Hall to join the other students for the sorting ceremony.  
Harry could hear Ron talking to someone in hushed tones about the sorting itself.

"My brother told me you've got to wrestle a troll! And that they sort you based on how long you can hold out!" Ron looked positively panicked about it.

Harry just snickered behind a hand and waited. In short order, Professor McGonagall drew them all out into the Great Hall, and stood them in the center. She retreived a small stool as well as a manky looking hat. "This is the Sorting Hat," she began in a loud, clear voice. "When your name is called, come up here, sit on the stool, and we'll see where the hat places you"

There seemed to be a large rip in the front of the hat, which then spread wide and started to sing as if the rip were its mouth. Harry couldn't help laughing at the spectacle. "This wizarding stuff is just completely insane," he thought.  
The professor started reading off names, alphabetically by last name. Harry knew he had a while until he was called, so he looked around the room a bit. The head table was full to capacity, except for an obvious gap next to the headmaster himself. Harry expected that to be McGonagall's seat. The headmaster was observing the sorting with what looked like considerable interest, his smile seemed genuine and his eyes were dancing over the newest students with a kind of glee.

"Harry Potter" called out McGonagall. Whispers are racing up and down the Great Hall, and Harry heard his name in breathy tones more than once.

Harry moved to the front of the remaining students, and took a seat on the stool. As the hat settled down over his head,

Harry couldn't help but wonder. What would the hat choose for him? What if this were all some kind of terrible mistake - or worse yet, a joke? It's not like the Dursleys really wanted Harry around, but he couldn't help feeling that his uncle wouldn't feel especially bad if Harry came home after being kicked out of wizarding school for having no magic at all.

He sat there, with his hands in his lap, quietly waiting. The silence in the great hall was roaring in his ears. As time ticked past, Harry couldn't know it, but a frantic conversation was taking place someplace he couldn't possibly hear. Headmaster Dumbledore leaned forward a bit in his seat, to look down upon the tiny form of Harry, his eyes twinkling in the magical candlelight.

The hat shook a little on Harry's head, and out of its mouth came "GRYFFINDOR!", breaking the silent spell that had the entire hall in its grip. Harry bounced up off the smallish stool, placed the hat back upon it, and scampered down to sit with his new housemates.

Ron scooted over to make room, and Harry slid in beside him, smiling.

"That wasn't so bad", he said quietly in Harry's ear "I'm going to kill my brothers. Wrestling a troll, indeed"

"This place is full of surprises! A talking hat, no less!" said Harry with a giggle.

The headmaster had a little more to say regarding rules and out of bound areas.

"And now, everyone stand as we sing the school song!" the Headmaster was waving his wand around, like he was conducting some kind of invisible orchestra. Every student that knew the tune was singing it differently - the two older Weasley twins left to the last, chanting the words as if they were some kind of funeral dirge.

"Ah, music. A more powerful magic than any we do here." said Dumbledore, wiping a tear from his eye. "Now, as I am assuming you're all starving half to death, let's tuck in"

With a clap of his hands, food appeared on every table and the arriving feast began in earnest.

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Once dinner was done, the prefects led all the first years up to Gryffindor tower and suggested they all get some sleep. They'd have the weekend to become familiar with the layout of the castle and schedules would be handed out on Sunday morning, at breakfast.

Harry figured he'd call it an early night as well. He certainly didn't seem to be as tired as most everyone else, but the food he'd eaten had been very good and he didn't have anything pressing to do. As he crawled into bed, he heard Ron mumbling something about missing his stupid rat.

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The first week of classes passed without incident until double Potions on Friday with the first year Slytherins. Harry didn't know what he'd done wrong, but Professor Snape seemed intent on making him miserable. After being asked a series of questions that Harry knew the answer to, he'd lost Gryffindor points for being an 'insufferable know-it-all.

He just shrugged, and went about his business however. Whatever was bothering the professor, Harry couldn't really bring himself to care. Even when Snape insulted Harry's father, he just ignored him. Memories from his older self made sure that he knew that his father had loved and cherished him. Snape could be as big a git as he liked - it really didn't matter one bit. However, he still wanted to pass the class. Harry put as much effort and care as he could into the potion he was working on.

"What is this, Potter? Couldn't be bothered to brew a proper potion? Even one so easy as this"

With a swish, Snape vanished what Harry had almost finished from his cauldron and lazily wandered back up to the front of the class. As the class ended, Harry was rightfully upset. He knew just what to do. Without another word, he picked up his bag and headed off to find his head of house.

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"Professor McGonagall, I'd like to withdraw from potions with Professor Snape"

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter. Why is that?" asked the stern woman.

"Professor Snape doesn't like me for some reason, and isn't going to grade my work fairly. He vanished my work today before even checking it. This came after he spent the first part of the period attempting to insult both myself and my father." Harry wasn't happy. He was calm and determined, however he was still very displeased.

"There isn't anything I can do about this. Professor Snape is the finest Potions Master currently available to Hogwart's. You'll just have to try to work your way through this"

"No, ma'am. The school rules say quite plainly that no student has to put up with threats or abuse while attending. While it certainly doesn't specifically say from who, I am certain that both students and teachers apply. My trust vault is paying for this education. Either you remove me from Professor Snape's class and allow me to pay for summer tutoring in this subject, or I will remove myself from Hogwart's and find a school more willing to treat a student fairly." Harry crossed his arms, and looked into McGonagall's eyes.

"Let's go talk to the Headmaster, Mister Potter. I am very interested to hear what he has to say on this matter"

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Standing in the Headmaster's office, Harry found that he was simply amazed by the wide variety of magical devices spinning, whirring, or puffing out little bits of steam. This seemed more like a magic toy store than any kind of office.

Coming out of a connected chamber, Albus Dumbledore looked very unimposing in some light purple robes. His eyes twinkled merrily in the lamplight as he took a seat behind his desk.

"Mister Harry Potter. It's so good to finally meet you face to face," said the Headmaster happily. "Care for a lemon sherbet? I'm so very addicted to them"

"No sir. Thank you, sir. I've come to withdraw from Professor Snape's Potions class." Harry figured that the direct approach was the best one.

"I'm sorry Mister Potter, but that's.." Harry raised his hand quickly to cut the old man off.

"Sir, Professor McGonagall said the same thing. However, I will no longer be attending his class. I am not interested in a class that apparently should be called 'Abuse Harry Potter'. I've tolerated enough of that sort of thing from my muggle relatives. I'll not be doing the same for an education that I am paying for"

Dumbledore looked over his glasses at Harry, tapping his fingers together in front of his nose. "Professor McGonagall, could you please summon Professor Snape? I would like to hear this story from both sides"

"At once, Headmaster." McGonagall turned on her heel, and was back out the door.

"Now, Harry. We'll get to the bottom of all this soon enough. No need to take such drastic measures quite so quickly." said Dumbledore.

Harry sat down on the couch and waited, his hands in his lap. He certainly wasn't afraid, and he knew he was completely in the right. His older self's memories were clear. Nobody could force him to do something that was terribly distasteful to him. Harry felt this situation certainly fit the bill.

A few short minutes later, the door opened again and both Professors McGongall and Snape came in to the office.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster?" started Snape. The dark haired man spotted Harry sitting quietly and sneered at him. "Ah. I see. Little Harry Potter is upset about being lousy at potions and has decided to be a prat. Just like his father, I see"

"Now Severus, we needn't act like that. I'm sure you've got a good reason for your management of the Potions class"

"Of course, Headmaster. Potter had brewed such a terrible boil curing potion that I felt it wasn't even worth my time to grade it. His earlier cheek had cost his house points and as such I felt it prudent to make him very aware of who was in charge of the class"

All three adults looked at Harry. He returned each person's look with killing curse green eyes. "I see how this is going to go. Very well. As of right now, I am withdrawing from Hogwart's. Since I'm aware of my rights in this matter, I am going to go pack my things and leave. Right now. Good evening, Professors." Harry rose off the couch. As he did so, Snape did something with his wand and stared hard into Harry's eyes.

Harry looked at Snape, and blinked. In that instant, Professor Snape was hurled across the room and collapsed into a crumpled unconscious heap on the floor. Harry raised an eyebrow at the event, knowing somehow that he was responsible but having no idea how.

"What have you done, boy!?" said McGonagall, her voice rising to an almost screech.

"Not a thing, Professor. Now if you'll excuse me, I've packing to do"

"Harry, you're not going anywhere," started Dumbledore. "You sit right back down on that couch, and we'll sort this out directly"

"With all due respect, sir, now that I have made my wishes clear, you are no longer my Headmaster. If you try to keep me here against my will, I will see that charges for kidnapping are filed as well. Good evening Professors." Harry reached for the door.

The Headmaster incanted a spell behind Harry, but he never saw it land. There was some kind of flurry of activity, but Harry had already opened the door to step through it. Pulling the door closed behind himself, he walked down the circular stair case to head back to Gryffindor tower.

"Well. That was short lived." thought Harry, smiling a bit.

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By the time Harry got back to the fat lady's painting and said the password, Professor McGonagall was standing in the common room, her arms crossed. She seemed to be very cross and was huffing angrily.

"Young man, you are going to sit down right now and explain your behaviour." she said, quite firmly thought Harry.

"Professor, please. I don't want to appear rude. My feelings on this have been made quite clear, and I'm really not interested in discussing them. Nobody has been particularly interested in following the rules of this school on my behalf, and as such, I plan on going somewhere that will. Good evening, ma'am"

"Petrificus Totalis!" intoned McGonagall, pointing her wand at the center of Harry's chest. The spell shot out of the end of her wand, hit Harry squarely, and rebounded off hitting McGonagall. Her arms and legs snapped together, and she fell over with a muffled thump.

"What is it with these people? Talk about bullies!" said Harry, becoming a bit more irate. "Could I get a hand here, please?" Harry was trying to lift the woman up onto one of the common room couches. A thickset sixth year came over and gave him a hand, grabbing her under the shoulders.

"Finite Incantantum," said the student, releasing McGonagall from her own curse. "Are you alright, Professor"

She waved the young man off, staring angrily at Harry. Her lips were pressed into a fine, thin line. Harry had seen that look before on his Aunt's face.

"Professor McGonagall, I don't quite understand what the problem is. I've been here a week, and it's been mostly good. However, the student rules are very clear. I don't have to tolerate abuse from anyone - let alone a teacher. When I brought my problem to your attention, I find I've got a headmaster that's allowing and encouraging it? Please. If I've missed something, by all means tell me." Harry sat down in one of the common room chairs facing the couch.

"Mister Potter. This is not the place to be having this discussion. You are to come with me, back to the Headmaster's office"

"Professor," said Harry "this isn't something I'm going to negotiate about. Either officially pull me from Professor Snape's class, or I am leaving. I have to say I'm pretty pleased that I'm protected in such a way that your strange bullying isn't affecting me"

There was a murmur through the common room. McGonagall was staring hard at Harry through angry eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it.

Harry sighed. "Why won't you people be reasonable? I'm making a very simple request about the education I am paying for. I may be eleven years old, but even I know teachers aren't supposed to harass students in school. The school rules are really clear, too. I can ask to withdraw from a class, even without my parent's consent. So, I'm doing just that. Please. You're my head of house. I'm supposed to be able to rely on you. Fix this"

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After the scene in the common room had died down, Harry followed Professor McGonagall back to the Headmaster's office. As they entered, Harry saw Professor Snape stretched out on a couch as Madame Pomfrey went over him with a wand. Everyone seemed very tense except for Harry. He was very well aware of his situation and knew he had the right of it.  
He was also very pleased to find out that his older self had anticipated all these problems and protected him accordingly. Smiling widely, he took a seat in one of the available chairs and waited quietly for things to settle down.  
After the healer was finished, she left the office pulling the door closed behind herself. Harry looked from Professor Snape still laying out on the couch over to the Headmaster sitting behind his desk.

"Mister Potter. I must say, you're rather full of surprises," said Dumbledore with not a single trace of humour in his voice.

"Well, Headmaster, I have only myself to thank." Harry giggled as he said it, his eyes glittering.

Snape was furiously sputtering, growing redder in the face by the moment. "You see, Headmaster? Muggles or not, this boy is exactly like his pathetic father. Arrogant as well as stupid"

"Headmaster Dumbledore, please understand. Professor McGonagall asked me to come back here in an attempt to sort things out peacefully. I have tolerated all the abuse I'm going to from Professor Snape. You have two options. Pull me from the potions class, or I will be leaving. I don't mean to be rude, sir. I know the rules and my rights. I am merely exercising them." Harry was sitting calmly with his hands in his lap again. His wand was in his wrist holster, but he really hadn't felt much need to draw it.

Dumbledore leaned in, staring intently into Harry's eyes. Snape leaned forward quickly, "No, Headmaster! Don't"

The Headmaster cried out, falling backwards out of his chair and onto the floor. The phoenix trilled a soft song, trying to calm everyone in the room as it flew down to land next to Dumbledore.

Snape lurched to his feet, stumbling around the desk. "I tried to warn you, Albus." he ground out as he started bleeding from the nose again. "Somehow, Potter is a very powerful natural occlumens - and his defenses are both automatic and extremely violent"

McGonagall looked appalled. "You mean..." she put a hand to her mouth.

"What?" said Harry, looking around. He wasn't sure exactly what they meant, but he was certain that his older self had helped him in some way.

Albus Dumbledore was very carefully getting back up with Snape lending a supporting hand. "Again, Mister Potter. You are just full of surprises." the old man pulled a pink handkerchief out of a pocket somewhere, and wiped a little blood from his nose. Sitting down in his chair again, he considered the young man before him quite carefully.

"Headmaster? I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt," said Harry.

"Well, it seems we have no choice in this matter. Regardless of what I want, it seems you're going to get your way. Understand, Mister Potter, that without acceptable scores in the subject of potions from a credible tutor, you're going to find it very difficult to move on to more advanced subjects later." the Headmaster's voice was cold and serious. "Furthermore, it is unbecoming of a young man to show such terrible disrespect to the professors here in this way"

Harry just shrugged. "Respect is earned, sir. Not given, and certainly not something you can just force. I made a reasonable request, and so far this evening I have been attacked by no fewer than three adult wizards. So, please forgive me if I seem a little... surly"

Snape drew himself up to his full height. "Mark my words boy. I'll show you what it means disrespect me. If you think you're going to just get away with this"

Harry stared pointedly at Snape. "That's it. I was willing to overlook your poor attitude before. However, if you think you can threaten me, then go ahead. Do your worst. I've dealt with bullies before." Harry stood up. "Come on, man. If you think you've got the minerals, then take your best shot. I'm only an eleven year old wizard kid"

Professor McGonagall gasped at what she was seeing. She looked between Snape and Potter anxiously, not daring to come between them.

"Well, Headmaster? You going to call off your angry dog here? I've already decided. I'm leaving and getting private tutoring. All that's left is for me to actually finish packing." Harry had turned away from Snape to face Dumbledore.  
Snape had drawn his wand and was pointing it at Harry's back.

"From behind even? Go for it then, Snape. You are no longer my teacher. So far, the only thing I've learned from you is how big an ass you can be." Harry turned around very slowly to stare up at the dark robed man. "You take your very best shot. I'm begging you. So far, my muggle cousin Dudley has put up a better fight than the lot of you"

Snape grabbed the front of Harry's robes, walking towards the door only to find himself unable to budge the boy from where he was standing. Harry hadn't drawn his wand or even uncrossed his arms.

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear enough, sir." Harry spat out the last word. "Either hex me, or get out of the way. You have no power over me at all except to continue delaying my leaving. That is all." Snape tugged harder on Harry's robes, yanking with all his strength. He may as well have been trying to drag a marble column for all the good it was doing him.

Snape let go of Harry's robes, stepped back and slashed viciously downward with his wand. "Sectumsempra!" he roared. The curse hit Harry squarely in the chest, slashing his robes open. However it just bounced off of his skin, rebounding forcefully right into Spape's own body, rending it in half. Snape slumped to the floor with a wet wheezing sound, a look of absolute surprise on his face.

Harry shrugged. As disgusting as this was, he'd seen worse in slasher movies - and it's really pretty hard to get all worked up when someone hurts themselves trying to hurt you. He turned back around to face the Headmaster.

"Goodness. Don't anyone try to help their friend. Though, seems to me that Snapey here didn't have many friends. I bet he had bad breath, too." Harry chuckled quietly. "Well then. I guess that takes care of that. If you don't mind, Headmaster, since the potions problem has been sorted, I'd like to get back to my common room and get my homework done for my other classes"

Harry smiled pleasantly, standing in front of Snape's rapidly cooling corpse. Nobody in the room had so much as moved a muscle. Dumbledore blinked once, very slowly. He looked down at his deceased potions master and then back at Harry.  
Professor McGonagall spoke first. "Er.. yes, Mister Potter. Let's get you back to your common room. Headmaster." She reached out a hand, slowly, to guide Harry out of the office. Meeting no resistance, she let Harry lead the way.

"Ma'am, if it's any help, I'm sorry Professor Snape hurt himself. The spell he used looked like it would have done me a lot of damage if it had been able to hurt me." Harry was looking up at his head of house. Really, he hadn't wanted to leave - but he'd be damned if he was going to let people push him around when he didn't have to take it.

She seemed to be walking in a bit of a daze, just following Harry along. Once they got to the common room door, Harry gave the password and headed inside. "Try to have a good night, Professor"

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Albus Dumbledore was having a bad morning. His head was still pounding, even after some mild pain potions. Now he had to find a new potions master, and he was seriously hacked off that Severus had gotten himself killed. Stupidly, to boot. It should have been obvious that Potter was just egging him on - he couldn't believe how easy it had been done.  
He sighed again, rubbing one of his temples with an ancient finger. It didn't seem like Potter himself was making a particularly big deal about this business - other than to say he'd worked things out with the Headmaster and his head of house.

McGonagall entered the office and took a seat. "Albus, I don't know what to do about all of this"

"I'm going to make a public statement about Severus this evening at dinner. He's had a medical emergency that he simply must attend to, and we'll work to pick up the slack in his potions classes during his absence. Next term, when we replace him, we'll just make it clear the young man decided he had some more important work to take care of." slumping a little in his chair, he looked every one of his over one hundred and fifty years.

"The real killer, Minerva, is that there's nothing we can do. There is no kind of reciprocity we can bring to bear against Mister Potter. He never even drew his wand. Severus basically killed himself"

She looked downcast at this, "I understand, Albus. Honestly, I'm not sure why or how this got so far out of hand. He was in the right, asking to be pulled from Severus' class. I've asked a couple of the other students, and they confirmed Potter's story about Snape's attitude. Apparently, old childhood grudges die hard"

"Did you not understand what I was trying to do, Minerva? I needed that child weak and pliable. Severus' primary function was to continually bait Potter. He's not here to learn anything. He's only here so that we can watch him, and then throw him at Voldemort once he returns. That's it." Dumbledore continued, "That's why I left him with those muggles. There are no blood wards - there never were. I knew Lily's family, and Petunia Dursley was as anti-magic as you could be. Did you know that she'd written me a letter and begged Lily to send it with her owl? She pleaded with me to teach her magic too, just like her sister"

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Harry continued going to classes, including potions - since it was being administered by an appointed ministry employee. He wasn't having any difficulties now, since nobody wanted to antagonize him any more. There was a notice posted in the Gryffindor common room, giving the time and date of upcoming flying lessons for first year students. Harry was bouncing with joy. He'd never flown before, but was sure he'd be brilliant at it.

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People were giving Harry a wide berth. The particulars of Professor Snape's sudden departure weren't exactly known however it was plain to see that Harry Potter was somehow the cause of it. Draco Malfoy was taking it very personally that Snape had left, and had decided to go out of his way to start bothering Harry whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"Are you serious, Malfoy? You're pointing a wand at me, so I expect you're serious"

Harry and Draco were standing about ten feet apart, Draco's wand levelled at Harry's chest.

"That's right, Potter. I don't know what you did, but Professor Snape is gone and somehow it's your fault. What have you done? Precious Boy-what-lived was pants at potions and used his fame to get my Godfather sacked. Just wait until my father hears about this"

Harry just shrugged. "You might want to not point your wand at me, Malfoy. Last person who did didn't come off very well as a result." He just stood there, eyeing the blonde, waiting. "Besides. Wizards pointing wands is like muggles pointing guns at one another. Either get on with it, or put it away." Harry turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Draco yelled some curse or another that Harry couldn't be arsed to even pay attention to. He knew full well by this point that he seemed to be pretty much curse-proof, so there wasn't even any point in turning around to see what Malfoy had done to himself. He just wandered off to charms class and waited for things to get rolling.

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Flying lessons came on full speed. Harry found himself out on the pitch amongst his fellow first years standing along side a broom. Having basically been raised as a muggle, he found it difficult to reconcile his idea that this cleaning implement was actually going to be used for flying. In fact, even if they were going to all get on a broom and start flying around, Harry found this to be terribly anachronistic and quaint. There was no other word to describe it but quaint. As if the wizarding world was like some dotty old aunt that just couldn't stop collecting and putting out doilies under everything in her house, despite the fact that the practice had fallen from fashion fifty years previous.

"Still can't believe this." Harry mumbled under his breath. "Bloody brooms. Who knew"

Madame Hooch had instructed everyone in the basics of gripping a broom once everyone had one in hand. As soon as she described how to kick off and began counting down for the students to begin, Harry watched Neville Longbottom start floating off the ground.

"Mister Longbottom!" called out Hooch, stopping her count. "Mister.."

Neville took off almost straight into the air. Harry could see right away that the podgy boy was going to be in a lot of trouble very quickly, and launched himself into the air to try and help without hardly a thought to what he was doing.

"Hold on, Neville! I'm coming!" yelled Harry. He wasn't sure Neville had heard, however. He'd canted sideways off his broom and was dangling there by a leg and one hand, screeching madly. Madame Hooch wasn't too far behind Harry but the raven haired boy pulled up along side Neville before he'd had a chance to completely fall off.

Neville chose that point to let go of his broom, and fell into Harry, grabbing him in a bear hug.

"Just hold onto me, Neville. I gotcha." Neville just whimpered into the back of Harry's robes and clung to him for dear life. "Madame Hooch?" Harry addressed the teacher as she pulled along side the two.

"Well done, Mister Potter. It looks like Mister Longbottom might be in need of a calming draught. Why don't you escort him to the infirmary to get checked over and I'll take care of his wayward broom. Off you go"

"Thank you ma'am." Harry flew the two of them into the castle, and carefully maneuvered through the empty halls until he reached the infirmary. Under normal circumstances, Harry wouldn't have been keen on flying on a broom through the halls, but Neville wasn't letting go of his death grip. He pulled the doors open, and floated the two of them gently inside. Not seeing any other way to dislodge Neville, Harry pulled along side a bed and fell off his broom sideways onto it. Neville squawked like he'd just fallen fifty feet which drew the attention of the matron.

"What can I do for you boys?" Pomfrey bustled over to see what she might do to help the two lads.

"Ma'am, Neville's had a terrible fright during the broom flying lessons. We were sent here to see about a calming draught and to make sure he wasn't hurt"

Neville was crying softly into the back of Harry's robes, squeezing them for all he was worth. Pomfrey gently worked him loose and sat him up, handing him a handkerchief for his tears. Harry sat on the bed next to him, trying to be supportive.

"I'm sure my Gran was right," Neville sniffled. "No better than a squib, I am. Can't even manage a ruddy broom"  
Pomfrey waved her wand over Neville then wandered off to the rear of the infirmary, presumably to gather something she needed.

"I wouldn't even sweat it, Neville. We'll just get you back out there later on - get the professor to run things a little closer for you." Harry wrapped an arm around Neville's shoulders, and gave him a brotherly squeeze. "I'll make sure I'm there, just in case." Neville looked over at Harry as he winked. Neville gave a weak smile and scrubbed his face with the cloth to clean up the tear tracks.

Pomfrey returned with a vial of something that tasted sort of bland, but seemed to drive some color back into Neville's cheeks. "There you are young man. You aren't injured in any way, so one calming draught was all you needed. Mister Potter? Please escort your friend to the Great Hall. I expect lunch is under way"

Nodding, Harry stood up and turned around to face Neville. "Let's get some food, mate." He offered a hand.

Neville looked up at Harry, his eyes full of fear. "They're all going to make so much fun of me. I don't know if I'll be able to bear it"

Dropping his hand, Harry eyed Neville directly. "If they feel some serious need to make fun of you for something you can't control, I'll be sure to introduce them to my boot." he said with steel in his voice. "You heard the woman. We're friends - and nobody gets to harsh on my friends. Got it?" He stuck his hand out again, this time with more force. "Now let's go"

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Lunch after flying lessons went well enough. Anyone that thought they could harass Neville got the bad end of Harry's ire. Malfoy seemed determined to be a menace, as usual.

"Well, if it isn't the lump of Gryffindor." somehow Malfoy seemed graced with the ability to sneer with just his voice.

"Malfoy, we started off the year on such good terms. Why do you feel the need to act such the prat?" Harry turned to stare at Draco. "Besides. You're interrupting our lunch, which is going to make me irritable. Getting me all cranky isn't a good idea"

"Psht. What are you going to do, Potter? Feeling brave, are you? Well, you Gryffindors might be known for bravery but certainly not for your intellect." Crabbe and Goyle both loomed menacingly at each side of Draco.

Neville was shaking in his seat as Harry decided enough was enough. Standing up, he faced all three boys right in the center of the great hall. There were no professors at the head table, so everyone present knew this was going to escalate fast. They were also stunned to see little Harry Potter standing face to face with three students - two of which were much larger than he was.

"I dunno, Malfoy. I'd say I'm pretty brave - I mean, there's three of you and one of me. Though I doubt you'd have come over here without your two goons. Here. I'll make this real easy. It seems like Slytherins won't actually attack me unless they can do it from behind." He turned around to face away.

Crabbe and Goyle looked at Draco for some sort of direction. The blonde just jerked his chin at Harry while looking at Crabbe. The larger boy reached out to grab Harry, got a full handful of robes and then just stopped. He started tugging and shoving but Harry didn't budge.

"Huh." Harry simply turned himself around to face the larger boy, throwing him off balance. "Is that all you've got? What? All three of you can't even move a little waif like myself?" He stared pointedly at Goyle. "Come on then. If you're going to hit me, then hit me. My lunch is waiting"

Goyle smashed Harry straight in the face, as hard as he could. Not actually registering that he'd shattered some of the bones in his hand he actually hit Harry again. This time he seemed to notice something was wrong. Pulling away, the other students could see that Goyle's right hand was a crushed mess of bones and bruises. He just sat down on the floor, staring stupidly at his hand. Crabbe was still wrenching on Harry's robes for all he was worth as Harry reached down to pick up his glasses since Goyle had knocked them off his face with his flailing about.

"Hmpf" was all Harry said as he reached over to a bowl with buns in it, dumping the buns. Whirling, he hit Crabbe with it in the face again and again. The larger boy went down on the third hit, but Harry dropped to a knee and continued to savage him, breaking his nose and really working him over. A few hits more, and Harry stood up from a whimpering Crabbe and turned to face Draco.

"Now that I've evened the odds some," Harry swung the bowl with all his might and caught Crabbe in the temple with it, putting him out cold. "You and I are going to have words, Draco." Harry lunged and caught a fistful of the front of the blonde boy's robes. "You'll notice nobody has come to save you. To stop this. That's because this is entertainment around here it seems. So, I'm going to cap this show off right. Also, I'm not going to get into any trouble at all - because nobody cares. There isn't a single person here that's going to raise an eyebrow because I've slapped you and your two bully friends in the face and put you where you belong"

Harry slapped Draco in the mouth with his free hand as Draco tried to fumble his wand out of his pocket. "Bah. Your stupid stick isn't going to help you now, boy." He drove Draco's head into the table, scattering his dishes around. Satisfied with the sound Draco's head was making, he decided to repeat the act a few more times as hard as he could. "I have to say, you're lucky we're not a little older, boy. If I were big and strong like your two friends here, you probably wouldn't see tomorrow." Harry helped introduce Draco's face to the table a couple more times. "As it stands, however, I'm just a little slip of an underfed, unloved, malnourished child. This has left me with little physical strength but plenty of anger to take out on bullies. This is what happens when I'm cranky, boy. I start acting out"

Draco was struggling in Harry's grip, but he wasn't faring very well as Harry was punctuating his dialogue with either the head to table action, or to kick one of Draco's two minions. "So here's how this is going to go. You. Are. Going. To. Leave. Gryffindors. Alone. Period." Draco was almost unconscious from the abuse Harry was heaping upon his person. Heaving the blonde boy to his feet face to face with Harry, he slapped him across the face to get his obviously lacking attention. "Do you understand? What you're seeing right now is me acting cranky. Imagine how painful this might have been if I'd actually gotten angry. Now. Sod off." Harry dumped Draco on the ground, on top of Crabbe.

"Whew!" Harry pushed his hair up off his sweat covered forehead. "Who knew manhandling people made you so hungry!" With that, he dug into some lunch completely ignoring the shocked looks he was getting from everyone around him.

"What"

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As Harry and Neville walked back to the Gryffindor common room, Harry found himself whistling a jaunty tune. Neville hadn't said a word the whole time, but gave the password as they got to the opening. As the painting came open, a roaring noise came pouring out into the hall and the weasley twins lunged out to scoop Harry up one under each arm. Or they would have if they could have budged him. As it stood, they hooked him under the arms, went to move, and found themselves both hanging off of Harry's side.

"Sorry lads, I don't move unless I'm doing the moving." He gave them a kind of lopsided smile, helped them up and all four boys climbed into the common room to raucous applause and cheering. Harry just stood there and looked around. Almost every single Gryffindor at Hogwart's was stuffed into the common room or on the stairs, cheering and yelling for Harry.  
Harry lowered his head bashfully. About thirty seconds more passed, and the twins held up their hands for silence. Harry looked up and around. Every eye was on him, obviously wanting to know what happened. The Boy-who-lived had demonstrated that he was indeed worthy of being the saviour of the wizarding world once again, and they wanted to hear the story straight from him.

"I gather you lot want to know what happened out there today? Why I just handed out the unholy beat down to three most deserving Slytherin bullies?" The assembled students went wild at this, hooting and yelling again. Harry just smiled and waited. They all quieted down more quickly. Too quickly, Harry thought. He turned as the common room door opened to allow Professor McGonagall entrance. Every single person froze.

"Yes, Mister Potter. I would very much like to know exactly what brought on such a savage display in the Great Hall during lunch"

Harry nodded both to her, and to all assembled. "Very simply, here's what happened. I just put an end to three Slytherin bullies. Period. For all time." He paused to draw in a breath, for he was speaking very loudly now. "If I hadn't stomped those three something fierce, they might have felt it was somehow ok for them to continue their evil ways. Nipping this problem NOW solves it LATER. Now they've been taught that it hurts when you do something stupid"

"Professor, you said on my first day here that my house was my family. Well, I took that message very much to heart. So when Malfoy and his cronies decided they had a problem with a Gryffindor, they were taking aim at my FAMILY. I am a Gryffindor and I tell you right now, I'd have done the same to anyone that dared to threaten me and mine. Understand? ANYONE. I don't care if the saintly POPE himself comes in here trying to hit someone with his Pope Staff, I'm going to fight him. Him and his pointy hat." This caused a few snickers to break out amongst the students. In fact, it seemed that McGonagall was having trouble keeping a smile off of her face as well.

She opened her mouth to say something but Harry cut her off before she could start. "Professor, there's just one more thing. You can't possible say anything about going and getting a professor or an adult. I've seen how that goes already. In primary school, my own cousin made sure I was bruised and battered as often as he could catch me - and going to an adult never accomplished ANYTHING except making the beatings worse later when he caught me when there wasn't an adult. You have to deal with this sort of thing yourself - and here, it's compounded something major by one simple fact. Every single student here has a lethal weapon at their disposal. For the record, Draco tried to bring his wand to bear - and I never bothered to draw mine. Didn't need to. So, nothing I did was potentially lethal, but he was willing to up the stakes right away. I'm not going to tolerate bullying in any form if I catch it, and I CERTAINLY won't turn my back on my housemates. I'm a Gryffindor, and WE. LEAVE. NOBODY. BEHIND." Harry was punching his hand with a fist to accent what he was saying.

The room exploded into cheers and applause again. Harry turned to face his housemates. "The last thing I've got to say is that I'm not happy with how this went. I didn't want to have to hurt someone; however he refused to see reason and has pushed me and mine every chance he gets. So, I had to deal with it in a way that made it clear that there was going to be no more discussion on the subject. Please understand. I had no choice. If I'd have let it go today, it would have been worse later. Better to get it over with now than to put it off." People were nodding in agreement. "We stand together in this house - but don't become bullies yourselves. I'd probably get pretty cranky about it." He chucked along with his housemates at this and plopped down on one of the couches to take a breather.

Professor McGonagall sat down beside him, not saying anything. The students began to disperse, some taking the time to clap Harry on the shoulder or fire him the thumbs up.

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	5. Almost dead But not dead enough

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He fell. Though, that's something of a misnomer. Falling implies that you're out of control - that you're likely to suffer when you stop. Harry Potter wasn't falling. He was flying downward, feet first.

He'd launched himself off the top of Big Ben in downtown London. Gravity has a measurable, fixed effect on falling bodies. That's why it would have been a shock if someone had observed Harry land in significantly less time than would have taken had he merely been falling.

Harry Potter didn't fall.

He was power made manifest. Slamming into the ground, the flagstones were pulverized as his raw magic pummelled them through his feet. In much the same way an enraged rugby player might have stomped an offensive roach. While wearing steel boots. Hopped up on chemical psychotics.

Nobody around him noticed a thing. At least, nobody that didn't share the world he lived in with him. His hands pulled on the lapels of his fashionable sport jacket and he cocked his head sideways, popping a crick in his neck. Striding off into the night, the raven haired young man gave a bit of thought as to his first destination.

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Severus Snape was having a very, very bad night. He'd started off with a meeting of Order of the Pheonix. Those hadn't gone very well at all ever since the incident at the Department of Mysteries.

It hadn't helped that somehow, Potter had managed to break loose from Lupin's grip and hurl himself through the veil after his idiotic godfather. The following six months had been absolute hell for the light side as they struggled to reconcile the fact that their supposed saviour was gone.

Couple that with the fact that Voldemort himself had decided that since his last and most potent obstacle was no longer any threat had thrown himself into his plans for manhandling wizarding Britain with a greatly renewed fervor.

Tonight, he'd had meetings with both sides and damned if he didn't feel like he was the one suffering most for it all.

Settling into his favourite chair, Snape pondered his next course of action while peering into a glass of firewhiskey. Spinner's End was the only place he could retreat to and be able to avoid both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Sighing, he downed the contents of the glass and reached for the bottle to refill it.

The door opened, causing him to freeze. Turning very slowly, he saw something he'd often had nightmares about. Potter had just walked into his home - looking all the world like Death itself.

"Oi, Snape. Get us a glass, would you?"

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Dressed quite well in black slacks, black loafers, a black t-shirt, and a black sport jacket, Harry Potter looked something muggles had taken to calling 'goth'. Couple that with the fact that the boy's flesh seemed to have a somewhat pale cast to it and he really cut a striking figure. It wasn't vampiric by any stretch as he certainly still carried color, he just looked like he hadn't seen much sun of late.

"Thanks." taking the offerred glass, he downed the stuff in one sharp pull. "Mmm. That's some decent stuff, Snape."

Nodding, the sallow faced man considered the young man in front of him critically. He'd been holding back any sort of scathing invective out of a subconscious sense of self preservation. There's certainly something to be said when a person simply walks into your home in apparent and complete disregard for the wards you'd placed to prevent that very thing.

"Well? Ready for the big news?" Harry seemed to relish the confrontation, even though he didn't seem angry about it at all.

Snape raised one eyebrow in a classic pose of schooling his features while continuing to appear interested.

Harry just laughed and clapped the man on the back. "You're a right shit, Snape. But you know what? I think you're ok. At the very least, you never actually lied to me. Takes some minerals, I think."

There was something in Harry's voice. Something that hadn't been there before. A peculiar metallic hollowness. It unnerved Snape to a degree that the older man simply stepped away from the boy and eyed him carefully.

"What happened to you, Potter?" The question seemed simple enough, but the answer to it, while also very simple on the surface, promised an entire world of questions.

"I died. However, since I can't die in any way but from Voldemort's hand, Death had to come deal with me himself." Harry sort of giggled a bit at this, obviously imagining the situation in question.

"Do go on. I'm sure this story can only get better," Snape took a seat and got comfortable.

"Oh it's pretty easy, really. Death found me floating in the void behind the veil and tried to drag me off to 'whereever we go next'. However, he hadn't counted on me kicking him in the rocks."

Severus Snape had heard a great many incredible things in his life. However, this was quite likely the most mind pummelling thing he'd ever had someone relate.

"Are you saying that the Grim Reaper himself came to collect your soul... and you... brawled with him?"

"Oh man, that wasn't a brawl. That was an unholy beating. I stamped him in the minerals until there weren't nothing left. Then I took his scythe and finished the job. Figured that if Death really wanted me that bad, I was gonna twist his nipples off first. Funny thing, that. Apparently that's how the 'mantle' gets passed along. The killing - not the nipples, I mean." Harry had a grin on his face that was as warm as it might have ever been. It never once came near his eyes.

Snape started shaking where he sat, his blood running cold.

"You... you're saying..."

"Yup. I'm Death. How about that?"

Severus Snape, spy for the light, Death Eater, Torturer, and Potions Master fainted. Like a little girl.

Harry poured himself another glass of whiskey. "This isn't half bad. Honest." he mused idly.

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	6. You put the lime in the coconut

Harry Potter as 'Zee Greem Reepah'. It's growing on me. It really is.

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The Order of the Phoenix was in total chaos. People were yelling over one another, things were being thrown - not even Albus Dumbledore seemed to be able to establish order, let alone maintain it.

If Severus Snape was to be believed, Harry Potter had returned to them. However, the means of his return seemed to be altogether grim. Dumbledore wasn't sure what he believed at this point. He knew Severus wasn't prone to exaggeration or fantasy - especially on the subject of Harry. However, his own abilities at magical divining and scrying had come up completely empty.

Wherever Harry Potter was, and whatever he'd become - it didn't matter to Dumbledore. All he knew was that he needed to see the boy, and get him set back on the path of prophecy.

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At that very moment, Harry was lounging on a beach in the Caribbean, sipping on a cocktail. One of the perks of being Death itself was that he could effectively do whatever he pleased. Every now and again - maybe once a week or so - something would come up that he'd have to address in person. But the job had really been pretty cushy so far.

Nobody ever asked him to pay for anything, either. He just asked for things and the things were given. What usually happened was people would just give him what he asked for and then promptly forget about him altogether, leaving Harry to just shrug and wander off.

There wasn't even any kind of 'boss' that he had to report to. Every so often, he'd feel kind of like going and looking into something - like a subconscious push. He would come across whatever odd situation demanded his attention and that was that.

"Waiter!" said Harry, flagging down the young man bustling around the open air patio. "Bring me something fruity that I have to drink out of a coconut!"

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School at Hogwart's had been in session for about a month of what would have been Harry's sixth year. News at the opening feast was that Harry Potter had been withdrawn from Hogwart's for special training - but rumours were flying around about what had really gone on. Nobody seemed to agree, either.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, feeling dejected and put upon. The wizarding world was in an uproar as news of Harry's reappearance had spread. But the initial hope had dwindled into a sort of hazy confusion. Potter was back, but he didn't seem to be doing anything to help the situation - and no matter what Dumbledore did, he didn't seem to be able to even reach the boy, let alone bring him back into the fold.

"You seem down, old man."

Dumbledore looked up to see a young man lounging in one of his comfortable chairs, looking for all the world like a very pleased and tanned Harry Potter. His shirt was brightly colored and covered with leafy patterns and he was wearing some beige cargo pants and deck shoes. He also seemed to be sipping contentedly on a straw sticking out of a coconut.

"You've got to try this! It's got bananas in it, ice, rum, and ... well, a couple other bits and bobs I haven't yet figured out. But the end result is bloody brilliant!"

The old man blinked once, very slowly. Pushing his glasses back up his long and crooked nose, the tried in vain to collect his wits.

"Hello, Harry. How... are you?"

"I'm absolutely fantastic, Headmaster Dumbledore! Though at the moment, I'm fighting off a wicked brain freeze. Nnnngh!" Harry made a bit of a sour face as his eyes crossed.

"Where have you been this summer?" This question had been weighing quite heavily upon the headmaster's mind. Especially since despite his best efforts - even taking to sending his phoenix out to search for the boy. "Your relatives have been quite concerned."

Looking for all the world completely uninterested as he waved one of his hands - the one not holding his drink, "Oh I've been here and there. Looking into things, a bit of the reaping. And vacationing! I have had such a great time - you can't hardly imagine!"

"Harry, my boy, you need to return here to Hogwart's to complete..."

Cocking an eyebrow, Harry interrupted him with a sharp glare. "Headmaster, with all due respect - which right this moment is actually rather not a lot - I don't have to do anything. I am Death made flesh. I don't have to 'go back to school' as you say. I died, killed death, and assumed his place. Immortal, ageless, and effectively omnipotent - if I do say so meself. So I figured I was well past due for a little time off. Visit the parents, slouch around a bit, take in a bit of the local color," pausing to take another sip of his beverage, Harry continued.

"I'm just here to pass along a couple of messages. My mum says 'feck off you meddling old coot', my dad suggests you 'get off your wrinkly backside and deal with the dark lord yourself rather than waiting for someone else to come do your dirty work'.

"And I think Sirius' message really drives the point home," Harry gave Albus Dumbledore the two fingered salute, grinning all the while like a madman - his killing curse eyes blazing with mirth.

"With that, I'm off!"

The single most powerful wizard in Britain sat at his desk, stunned as Potter simply disappeared from his office. He tried three times to raise a Lemon Sherbet to his lips only to set it down each time, blinking tears out of his eyes. Looking up, he would swear Fawkes was laughing his feathery ass right off.

"Oh, shut it, you," snapped Dumbledore, winging the sour confection at his familiar. "That's just what I need right now. To be heckled by some flying flaming turkey."

Fawkes laughed all the harder, falling off his perch into the ash collection tray with a meaty thump, a plume of cinder and ash exploding all around him.

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	7. Mini golf and pork rinds

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Swearing, Harry stomped to the far end of the green trackway past the laughing plastic clown.

"What is this?! Some kind of muggle madness? I'm the physical manifestation of Death made flesh! Omnipotent! I could snuff out the very SUN with a mere thought!"

Harry was waving his hands around, swinging a small metal club that was clenched in his right. He paced back and forth, staring balefully at the small white orb as it pointedly ignored his rant, perched as it was on the lip of a small plastic cup.

A six year old boy tapped his club against a green ball, knocking Harry's away from the cup and sinking his own putt. Smirking, the youngster collected his ball and headed off to the next hole at the miniature golf course. Harry had been wrestling his way down the artificial green all morning, with an abyssmal lack of success. Being denied this hole by a small child was the final straw.

An anguished cry rang out across the course, though when everyone turned to look and see the source of it, all they saw was a large plastic clown with a golf club shoved straight through one of its eyes.

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Ryan Newman was standing up in the stands at Talladega. He was also very, very confused. He was sure that he'd been scheduled to drive in the race that seemed to have been stopped at the moment - presumably to deal with the very nasty situation down on the track. Apparently, someone had caught a tire on someone else, end over ended the car they were driving, rammed it into a concrete barricade - and then the whole thing had gone up in a ball of fire.

Blinking into the sun, the man looked around just in time to see a lanky teenage boy heading his way.

"Here you are, Mr. Newman. One foot long dog with everything, plus onions. And one 'brewski'," said Harry Potter.

"Er.. Thanks?" Newman was a little disturbed. First and foremost because the british boy in front of him really slaughtered the word 'brewski' with his accent. Second, he didn't recall having ordered any food - but this was exactly how he liked his hotdogs. Taking a bite, he mused a bit and then asked the obvious question. "So. What's happened here?"

Harry took a long pull of some kind of energy drink. The sun was beating the crap out of everything here, and the fact that he'd gone with 'you're on the clock black' today, he was really feeling pretty hot under the collar. "There was a rather nasty car crash."

"Mmm." Newman mumbled around his food. "The guy make it out ok?"

"Well, they'll be able to suck your remains out of there with a turkey baster here in just a moment. We'll go have a look then, yeah?"

His eyes wide, the older looking man stared first at Harry and then the now extinguished conflagration.

"That's right mate. You're dead, and I'm here to collect you. No worries. Just finish your food and we'll be off," Harry smiled at his most recent charge. He'd really warmed up to the job - some people were so confused at their time of death, and Harry was certainly a pleasant enough person. Helped people transit to the afterlife with a lot less stress.

They walked out of the stands together, completely ignored by everyone else present. Harry made sure that all garbage was properly tossed into the appropriate receptacles.

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Munching contentedly on a bag of pork rinds, Harry wandered around the department of mysteries idly poking into all manner of interesting looking cupboards and crates.

"What's this? Grindlewald's brain in a jar?" Harry snorted, brushing bits of rind off the front of his t-shirt. Taking a detour through the hall of prophecies, Harry picked up glass globes as he walked. He'd listen to the prophecy and as it completed, he'd just throw the sphere over his shoulder or drop it on the ground and step over it.

_And one shall rise while others fall, the breaking waters..._ Harry tossed the sphere aside before it even finished. "Boooooring." The sphere bounced out of the walkway and rolled off into the darkness.

Harry's footfalls, the crunching of the pork rinds, and the tinny voices of little voices reciting cryptic and often pointless prophecies followed the raven haired reaper until he'd hit the other end of the room.

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"Excuse me, miss."

Blinking, the young ministry clerk looked up to see a raven haired man leaning over her desk. He was wearing a G3 t-shirt with tour dates on the back and Joe Satriani on the front in all his bald headed glory, as well as a pair of faded denim jeans.

"Yes?"

"Which direction is the Minister's office from here?"

"Down the hall, turn left, and look for the gold and flashing name plate. You'll have to make an appointment though."

"Thanks, miss!" Harry smiled widely and turned on a heel. This was one of the upsides of being a cosmic entity. Never having to make appointments.

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Cornelius Fudge wasn't having a good day. Then again, he hadn't had any good days in quite a while. He blamed Harry Potter. The boy didn't even have the decency to stay right and properly dead. Dead at least, he could act as a martyr. But alive and utterly unconcerned about wizarding Britain? What kind of a hero was that?

"Minister Fudge!"

Fudge almost fell out of his chair backwards. His heart hammering in his chest, the stared angrily at the grinning visage of.. "Harry Potter! What are you doing here?"

"Figured I should swing through, pay my respects, visit some friends. That sort of thing. How have you been, old man? It's been too long." Harry crunched a pork rind loudly as he reclined.

Sputtering, the Minister of Magic was at a complete loss even fathom what was happening. "What do you want, boy? You're supposed to be at Hogwart's, not out fooling around doing who knows what. I've half a mind to..."

Harry stopped the man, mid-rant, with an angry stare. "You are a stupid, stupid man. I might look like the Harry Potter you thought you knew - but I am by no means that boy any more." Harry's voice dropped a full octave, and took on that hollow metallic sound. "Minister, I am DEATH."

Wadding up the empty rinds bag, Harry paused to fire off a three pointer jump shot into the Minister's wastepaper basket. "He shoots, he SCOOOOORES!! From DOOOOOWNTOOOOWN!!" Harry crowed, pumping a fist into the air.

"Well, I've got an appointment to keep Minister. All I've got for you today is this - stop being a patsy to the dark lord or you're going to find yourself in a whole world of unpleasantness."

"Now see here, Mister Potter. You can't come into my office, threaten me..."

Harry turned. To Fudge, it was like time had slowed to a total crawl as the black haired young man turned, his eyes glittering green. He spoke with a voice that could carry across the endless range of space itself.

With a smirk on his face, and sparking eyes, Harry left the minister with one parting statement.

"I'll be seeing you again, very soon."

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	8. HP Animagus

Disclaimer: There's a big, big list of stuff around these parts that I don't own. Harry Potter is on it.

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He'd had enough. After losing Sirius, Harry had come to a very real decision. He was done being the poster boy for the British wizarding world. So, he took a page out of Sirius' book.

Harry Potter spent the summer mastering his animagus form. He flashed back to a conversation he'd had with Sirius regarding the transformation.

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"The thing about being an animagus is," Sirius had started lecturing again. "your form sort of reflects some of your core traits. So, your dad being a stag made total sense. He was regal, proud, wealthy - these things were all reflected in the form your father chose. Understand that most of that choice is subconscious, too"  
Harry nodded. Professor McGonagall hadn't really talked much about human to animal transformations, though she herself was an animagus. "So how hard is this to do, Sirius? I mean, I think it could be really useful to be able to transform into something else"  
"It's dead useful, Harry. My dog form helped me sleep at night, since it seemed to help me repel the effects of the dementors guarding Azkhaban"  
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The potion wasn't difficult to make, and the transformation wasn't actually particularly hard for anyone that was an above average transfiguration student. The main and most important thing to remember about animagi are that they are 'Ministry regulated'. The reason behind it was simple - there was no other way to control it.

Harry poured himself into the work, and found he was extremely satisfied with the results. The animagus revealer was completed on a balmy June evening. The transformation itself only took Harry four more weeks to sort out.

On his sixteenth birthday, Harry took the day to duck out of 4 Privet Drive. Ultimately, it wasn't particularly difficult for him to elude his minders. Harry just knew he'd have to wait for a 'Dung day'. He drained his trust fund, hit muggle london for a few things, and headed back to the Dursley's before anyone was the wiser.

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Harry knew full well that there was no way he was going to be able to just 'get away' from both Dumbledore and Riddle. His summer had been characterized by furious and frenzied planning to try and decide what to do and where to hide. However, once he'd sorted out his animagi form, a lot of things just clicked into place.

He'd decided he was going to attend Hogwart's, just like he was supposed to - because there was a lot of magic he still needed to learn. It was going to happen on his terms, however.

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Getting back home with a couple hours to spare, Harry went back up into his bedroom and got right to work. He packed up everything he owned. Cloak, map, everything. It all went into the trunk. Dumping all his old 'Dudley castoffs' on the floor, he found he had plenty of room for all his new things. He headed down into the basement to pick up a few bits and bobs and stashed them in his trunk as well - a matchbox half filled with wooden 'strike anywhere' matches, a large mouth bottle - just a few bits of what otherwise might look like junk. He then took one of the shirts Dudley had 'left him' and ripped the thing into strips. Pitching the newly collected bits into his trunk, Harry picked up the shopping bag he'd brought home and finished off what he was planning.

He locked his trunk, tapped it to shrink into his pocket and looked around his room. There was nothing left. No trace of Harry Potter to remain as testament to his misery. Harry found he was strangely pleased by this and decided there was no better time than the present to throw his plan into motion. He smiled as he transformed. He'd learned enough during the summer that he was not only going to follow in the footsteps of Sirius Black, taking full advantage of an unregistered animagus form - but also the traitor Peter Pettigrew. Peter had spent years on end in the form of a rat, and managed even to this day, to remain at large and uncaptured.

Harry knew he'd have an even better time of it, as he wasn't carrying the taint of the dark mark. No further sound could be heard in the smallest bedroom at 4 Privet Drive. In the center of the room, if you looked really, really closely, you might have spotted - for just a moment - a small jet black mouse with dark green eyes. The little guy sat back on his haunches, sniffed at the air just a bit, and then scampered off into the safety of the shadows. Harry Potter knew he was going to be spending a lot of time in his mouse form, and this was completely by design.

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	9. This isn't the Goblet you're looking for

This is been annoying me forever. Seriously.

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But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

"Harry Potter." -- Chapter 16, Goblet of Fire, JKRowling

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Harry's mind was whirling. Or was that the Great Hall. There seemed to be rather a lot of whirling, and Harry wasn't having a lot of luck pinning down exactly where it was coming from.

The hall had gone completely quiet. Every single person was staring at Harry, and the only sound the raven haired boy could hear was the guttering and popping of the Goblet as it sat there, pointedly sputtering with magical fire.

Harry felt a nudge in the ribs as Hermione nodded at the Headmaster. Dumbledore was standing at the head of the hall, piece of parchement clutched in old, gnarled fingers, waiting for him.

Blinking, he got to his feet, steadied himself with a hand on the table for a moment, and started moving towards the front of the hall. This was just what Harry needed. So much for a quiet year at Hogwart's.

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Entering the small side room, Harry heard people speaking, but couldn't be bothered to really focus on what they were saying. His mind was roaring a hundred miles an hour as he gave very serious thought to what was happening to him.

"Well, Potter. Even I am impressed with the level of your arrogance. In one moment, you've managed to even outstrip your father. Good job."

Harry looked up to see Snape's sneering countenance berating him. He blinked owlishly and sat in one of the chairs parked around a small table. Some of the adults were yelling amongst eachother, and there was fist waving. Harry always thought watching arguments with fist waving were the best.

Clearing his throat, he looked up again. A couple of the professors stopped talking to see what Harry had to say for himself. A moment later, they'd silenced everyone in the room and were all eyeing Harry expectantly.

"I'm not competing in your tournament."

"If your name came out of the Goblet, then you've no choice lad." grumbled Moody from across the room.

Crouch nodded in agreement as Harry looked critically between the two men. "That's right Mister Potter. By placing your name into the Goblet of Fire, you've entered yourself into a magical and binding contract."

Harry smiled widely. "You said that the Goblet of Fire was an 'ancient and powerful magical artefact', did you not?"

Crouch nodded again, mustache quivering.

"Tell me then. Do you think that the Goblet can read? From what Hermione's told me about this tournament, the Goblet has been used for well over a thousand years to manage events of this type. Seems to me that it's not the word on the paper that's important - it's the intent."

Some of the adult wizards in the room were blinking as Harry's words began to sink in.

"In fact, if I'm not mistaken about this, magic is almost entirely about intent. So, since I never placed a piece of paper into that goblet with a mark, doodle, or any other writing on it, my magic is not in the least bit of danger, as I never linked to it with intent."

"Mister Potter, when the parchement came out of the goblet with your name on it, you were bound to compete. It's just that simple."

Harry couldn't fathom for even a second why Dumbledore was trying to get him to compete. Then again, his inner slytherin had a few theories - none of them particularly pleasant. "I'm sorry Headmaster, but I'm pretty sure you're wrong about this. If someone could have written down a list of valid names and placed them all into the goblet so as to avoid this very problem, then I'm certain they would have. But, if the goblet operates as I suspect - then you'd have had one person entered into your tournament a whole lot of times, and no other contestants."

Sitting back with a smug look on his face. "So, if you don't mind, I'm going to go back to my dinner and enjoy watching this insanely dangerous tournament that I won't, for even one minute, be competing in."

Harry got up, left the room, and grinned like a madman all the way back to the Gryffindor table. He felt that it may well look like the coward's way out, but this year, he wasn't going to get sucked into some stupid life threatening circumstances when he could very readily avoid it.

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A/N: This blatant and annoying plot contrivance by the original author disgusted me beyond belief. The whole point of them raising the age limit was to only allow students 'of age' to compete - anyone younger wouldn't have been legally able to enter, given the stated laws in that place and at that time. This is just another of those moments where I found myself ultimately unsatisfied with canon.


	10. Jedi tricks and whanot

Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all in the HP universe. Squat. Not so much as an electronic sausage. In fact, my joke about electronic sausages is owned by Douglas Adams. Damn.

George Lucas owns the Star Wars franchise. And what a franchise it is. I have a friend that used to work for LucasArts and ILM. Man. That was good times. Anyhow, I don't own it.

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Harry Potter had something in his hand. Strange as it sounded, he was holding a lightsabre.

"Bloody brilliant."

The raven haired boy waved the blue bladed device around just a bit, taking in the odd buzzing and hissing sounds the thing made as it moved. It had a very strange balance, since the body of the 'blade' didn't seem to have any weight.

"I wonder..." he mused quietly.

Harry hit the stud on the body of the metal cylinder and the blue blade snapped away with a popping hiss. He popped open his trunk, got out a bit of parchement that he hadn't written on yet, and turned the strange device back on.

A blue 'blade' winked into existence with a sizzling sound, the air taking on the stench of ozone once again. Harry blinked the initial afterimages out of his vision as his eyes adjusted again to the change in the room's light.

Waving the blade around again, enjoying the odd 'whoom whoom' sounds the thing made, he passed the blade through the parchement he was holding in his other hand. The blade cut the parchement as if it were nothing at all.

"Ok, so the thing is actually some sort of weapon. I've seen all the movies - but it seems like I'm going to have to see them again." Harry found himself wondering why he had a blue blade. "Is there some specific color coding scheme to these things?"

Not having a single clue as to how to actually use it, he turned the lightsabre off again. It had come to him in a small case. There wasn't any documentation, not a scrap of information. There didn't seem to be any kind of rational reason why he'd received such a device on his front porch after getting home from Hogwart's this year.

His fifth year had been so mind pummellingly terrible, it's a wonder Harry had any functioning brain matter left. Though, this strange acquisition gave him some very serious food for thought.

Sitting down on the floor, he closed his eyes and went over everything he knew about the Star Wars story - the force, the battles - everything. All told, he'd really identified with the main character very closely. The whole 'brash pilot' mentality really rung true with Harry. He understood what it felt like to ride his emotions - it had manifested as a child while running from Dudley and his crew, and very powerfully as a budding wizard while on a broom.

He decided that perhaps it was time for him to take another page out of the Star Wars book. Sitting in his dark room with his eyes closed, he let his mind float back to what the character of Yoda had said during Luke's time on Dagobah.

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"Help you I can. Yes, mmmm."

"I don't think so. I'm looking for a great warrior." Luke was trying to keep from smiling at the diminutive creature.

"Ahhh! A great warrior." The green creature's ears perked up a bit as it chuckled. "Wars not make one great."

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Harry's mind was clearing as he relaxed. His memories of the movies were clear, having watched them in the middle of the night with the sound way down while the Dursleys were asleep. He realized that his entire approach to the problem of Voldemort had been terribly backwards. He needed a more 'jedi-like' mentality, and it annoyed him to no end that it had taken him so long to sort that simple fact out.

Drifting in his own mind again, he felt the stream of the movie dialogue pick up for him at a very crucial point.

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"A Jedi's strength flows from the Force. But beware of the dark side. Anger... fear... aggression. The dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight. If once you start down the dark path, foreverwill it dominate your destiny, consume you it will..."

Harry gave what the diminutive creature had said some careful thought. He understood more clearly what had caused Riddle to become the disfigured beast he had. It wasn't really an issue of namby pamby 'good thinking' versus 'bad thinking' - more a willingness to acquire power at any cost, and the dark was more willing to quickly take that cost in flesh.

"That place... is strong with the dark side of the Force. A domain of evil it is. In you must go."

"What's in there?" Luke eyed the entrance critically as he felt his guts twisting with a mingled mix of fear and anticipation.

Rasping quietly, Yoda responded "Only what you take with you."

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Harry came to a sudden and almost painful understanding, and had to restrain the urge to laugh out loud at the simple wisdom of it all. While facing Voldemort in the Little Hangleton graveyard, he'd had nothing with him but rage and fear. Those were elements of the 'dark side' as he now was beginning to understand it, and Voldemort would have those things in spades. No sense in fighting someone on their home ground, in such a way as to give them ready access to all their strongest weapons.

This was repeated in the atrium of the ministry. The dark lord appeared, and began his assault upon both his and the Headmaster's person with rage and anger.

"He may not directly know it, but strong in the dark side he is." Harry considered this idea very carefully.

The boy sat very still. He felt something in his stomach rolling around. The rage that threatened to consume him every day. The deaths ate at him, the frustration tugged at his mind. However, he stayed still, his eyes closed.

Focusing on his breathing, he sat quietly. Thinking back to something Snape had often bellowed at him, but never actually explained, he realized what it actually meant to 'clear his mind'. A thought came into his mental purveyance, and Harry thought it. Then when he was done thinking it, he let it leave the same way it had come it - which it did without complaint. His mind slowly cleared itself out as he simply sat there, breathing.

The twinge in his guts was never completely gone - and Harry understood that this was a human's natural tendency to resort to anger and violence with minimal provocation, in the complete absence of rational thought. He sat, crosslegged on the floor and snapped the lightsabre on again. As the blue blade popped out to its full length, he relished the feel of the metal in his hands. The sense of cool calmness that had begun the slow process of sinking into his bones.

He wished he had someone to teach him how to actually wield this thing, but understood the basic principles behind the 'sticking the sharp end into the other guy' that was the main staple of all forms of sword fighting.

"Well, I'm sure I'll figure something out."

Harry smiled for the first time in far too long. He'd just taken the first steps in a much longer journey.

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	11. More Jedi 'training'

Disclaimer: My muse has a very strange sense of humour. The doctor has prescribed dark chocolate and whiskey in an attempt to manage the situation. We'll see how that pans out.

I own no HP, no Star Wars - however, I am enjoying writing about them both.

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Harry's summer had gone smashingly. This whole 'jedi kick' he was on was paying serious dividends. The most immediate and obvious reward was that his homework was already done.

This wouldn't have been particularly spectacular, but up until now, Harry Potter really had been a mediocre student at best. Now, he knew he was going to score very well in every subject. He'd taken to a routine and never let it vary. He meditated all morning, reaching out to tap into his sense of magic. Did his homework or studied in the afternoon, and then worked out while trying to continue his meditation at the same time - sort of a walking relaxation.

It gave him the giggles, actually, when he thought about it because that's exactly what he'd remembered the old jedi teaching Luke. How to 'reach out with his feelings'. Thankfully, Harry had a general sense of this going in, and embraced the feelings wholeheartedly. He'd let his pain and suffering drain away, shedding no shortage of tears during the process.

Having had 16 years of misery to work out of his system had taken all summer, but the last weeks of it were simply the best of his life. He didn't even care that nobody wrote him letters - it's not like he was going to be able to explain what had happened with ink and quill.

"Hermione might have some notion of the story, but I doubt she'd lend much weight to its relevance."

He was strongly in tune with his magic now, able to do all manner of things. His mind drifted back to a very meaningful dialogue during the first movie.

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Luke was standing, feeling somewhat self conscious. It didn't help that the smuggler was staring at him with a sneer on his face.

"Remember, a Jedi can feel the Force flowing through him."

The old man reclined gently in the chair he'd chosen to watch Luke practice.

Thinking for a moment, Luke asked "You mean it controls your actions?"

"Partially. But it also obeys your commands."

The sandy haired blonde wasn't sure how you could have it both ways and this confusion showed plainly on his face. What he did know was that this training droid packed a nasty shock, and he was getting first hand experience with it.

To that end, Luke suffered not only another jolt from the small droid, but a scathing rebuke at the hands of Solo. He wasn't really very sure about all this business, but pain was something he could understand quite readily.

"I suggest you try it again, Luke." The old man stood, picking up a pilot's helmet off of the console. Slipping the helmet over Luke's head, he flipped the blast shield down and stepped away. "This time, let your conscious self go and act on instinct."

Speaking with a muffled and hollow voice, Luke said "But with the blast shield down, I can't even see? How am I supposed to fight?" He angled his head upwards in the hope that he could maybe see a little bit from under the metal plate.

"Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them." Kenobi reactivated the droid once again and settled back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at the boy. The bot circled Luke twice more before scoring another jarring hit. "Stretch out with your feelings."

Luke's body went still as he tried to sort out what he was being told. He tried to clear his mind, and realized that he'd managed to distract himself somewhat since he lacked the visual sensory input to keep himself focused. He was in a partial fugue state and realized that he could kind of 'feel' where the droid was and the potentiality of its actions. As those potentials fused into solid realities, he simply directed the lightsabre to be where the bolts were going to be.

To his surprise, the flowing motion caught three small bolts in a row before he'd gotten so excited that he drowned out the calm and watery peace he'd been floating in, breaking himself free of it.

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Harry found himself floating in that fugue state, and he was able to reach out with his magic and calmly direct things around his room without the requirements of a wand, verbalization, or anything other than simple intent.

What made this easier was the fact that he was calm, and connected directly to his magic - and to the magic of the very world around him. He grasped what Kenobi had been trying to impart. The idea that it was a force that flowed around and through everyone and everything. Harry could feel it - it was tangible to him, and he found it ironic that the best teacher he'd ever had was a set of muggle movies and himself.

He also found it comedic that he had been meditating as well as levitating himself, his trunk, his bed, wand, bird cage, dresser - everything that was loose in the room was in a drifting orbit around him, and it wasn't tiring him out in the least. Because he wasn't pushing or fighting the idea. He was simply asking each item to float in a manner of speaking, as well as drawing on the entire universe to make it all happen.

Harry could tell this didn't make him some kind of super being by any stretch - though, there really weren't any limits on things as far as he could see; other than his own sense of propriety and judgement. He realized that he could potentially wield his magic in such a way that it caused direct damage to another person, though he didn't relish the idea in the least. This must be why the unforgivables were so horrifying - someone had to have such terrible intent at heart to use them.

He knew that this year, things were going to be very, very different.

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	12. Holy moley guacamole

"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it."

Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later George was sprinting towards Malfoy. He had completely forgotten that all the teachers were watching: all he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible;

He felt something. Something mind blasting and powerful, surging in his veins. Harry felt parts of his insides breaking and burning as raw rage and power slopped around within him. His pulse quickened, like a sledgehammer slamming into a steel plate over and over again. Harry's head rocked backwards, and he screamed into the heavens.

"Ha HAAAAAAA...!!"

There was a thunderclap, as if Thor himself were stomping on the ground wearing a mighty mailed boot. People fell away from Harry Potter as power radiated off of him in the same way hurricanes 'whip a bit of a light breeze around'.

Draco Malfoy realized, for the first time in his pathetic, worthless life - that he might have finally gone much too far.

Harry Potter stood on the Quidditch pitch, glowing like some sort of vengeful god. White bolts of energy arced off his now darkened form, scoring dark furrows in the turf, the burning smell of grass and ozone assaulting the senses of everyone present.

He screamed, and kept on screaming. Filled with rage and frustration, Harry started floating off the ground, wrapped in a column of white hot energy. Convulsing in the middle of it, the lightning started striking harder and faster - only barely missing the spectators. Everyone on the pitch started running, yelling for people to take cover.

"MALFOOOOOY!!"

Harry's howl of rage erupted from the center of the maelstrom, freezing the Malfoy heir in place. Draco had just enough time to turn to face the force he himself had provoked and unleashed.

The first white arc of power snapped through the air from where Harry was floating, carbon black inside the column of electrical discharge. It caught Malfoy, full body, hitting him with the force of a meteor from space. A rather large meteor.

SLAM!

The bolt of energy didn't seem to end. It reared up and slammed the blonde haired teen again and again.

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

The ground was shaking with each impact, driving Draco further into the blackened, scorched crater. Each blow picked him back up, and then drove him into the firmament with terrifying force. It was obvious to anyone observing that the boy had been crushed to death after the initial impact, that the subsequent hits had been nothing more than tempestuous release.

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Sinking to his knees, smoke wafting very gently from his supine form, Harry Potter took a moment to catch his breath. Gripping the dried and dessicated grass and ground, he remained there for a moment. Now he could feel it. That electricity he'd always wondered about. The heady feeling of rapture that came each time he tapped into his rage. Seems that for some reason, he'd always been sort of 'blocked off' from a full connection with it. This time, however, Draco had just kept pushing and pushing.

He was thankful for it, quite honestly - he felt like he'd put down a burden he never known he had been carrying. Coming slowly to his feet, he looked around. The pitch had been burned and damaged terribly in his primordial rage. All told, he didn't feel the least bit tired - and he was well aware of why that was. Even now, he could still feel the power that was his to command racing through him, singing and vibrating along every one of his nerves.

"Potter!"

Madam Hooch, as the closest 'adult' to the whole event was pointing a wand, albeit very shakily, at him.

"Yes ma'am?" Harry's wand was still in the forearm sheath he'd taken to keeping it in. His Quidditch outfit was spattered with dirt and grime, but he was otherwise in perfect health and dry as a bone. Everyone was keeping a very far distance from him, fear obvious in their eyes.

Professor McGonagall recovered her composure and approached the raven haired boy warily.

"Come with me, Mister Potter."

Harry giggled a bit to himself as he stood his ground. "What's the matter, Professor? Never seen anyone ascend to his godhead before?"

The older woman fainted dead away, hitting the ground with a muted thump as nobody else made any motion to help her.

"What?"

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	13. Hello my baby! Hello my honey!

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Harry Potter was smiling. He hadn't stopped smiling since the incident on the Quidditch pitch. Yes, there was a lot of complaint - he'd basically murdered a classmate in front of the entire school. However, there didn't seem to be squat the wizarding world could do about it.

Aurors had been dispatched to the school to arrest him, and every single one of them had been turned away. Harry hadn't needed to attack anyone, destroy anything - nothing. He'd simply said that they'd be much better served going and dealing with the Voldemort problem and leaving him alone.

Well, to be fair, he'd been literally glowing with arcane energy and speaking in a loud, booming voice when he'd made his suggestions - but they were friendly suggestions, none the less. Really, he just didn't want to be bothered. By anyone.

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Sirius had fallen out of his chair for the second time. Harry was sitting in the kitchen with him at Grimmauld Place, recounting the day's events for his Godfather.

"Ok, so Umbridge tried to get me to leave her class. Again." Harry took a swig of his can of Mountain Dew. "I swear - every single day, Princess PigFace gets it in her head that I'm suddenly going to start to care what she says. I'm only even going to her stupid class just because I know it annoys her."

Sirius scrubbed some tears out of his eyes and climbed back up into his chair. Nodding, he bounced up and down a little - like an expectant child hanging on every word.

"So she decides that today she's had enough of my 'blatant disrespect of Ministry doctrine and law' and actually drew her wand. She pointed a wand right AT ME. Can you believe it?" he chugged the rest of the can and let out a resounding belch. Then he set the can on the table, waved his hand over it, and animated it to be a little metal dancing Lucius Malfoy - complete with hat and cane.

"Hello my baby! Hello my honey! Hello my raaagtime gaaaaal..." the little 'can-man' was singing in a tinny voice as it capered around, twirling hat and cane. The door to the kitchen opened to admit Remus, and as the wolf-man's eyes fell upon the small figure it squatted down, eyeing him morosely.

"Ribbit!!"

Harry was holding his sides, laughing silently in great shakes. Sirius, by way of contrast, was howling at the rafters, gasping for breath.

"Riiibbiiiiit..."

The tiny Malfoy copy just stayed there, hunched over, eyes protruding out of his face, croaking piteously at Remus. Lupin snickered at it, grabbed a bottle of butterbeer out of the fridge and then headed back out of the kitchen again. As the door clicked shut, the metal man burst back into a fury of dancing and waving.

"Send me a kiss by wiiiire!!"

The little man twirled and spun around.

"Baby, my hearts on fiiiire!!"

Dropping to one knee and clutching its little hands over it chest, it opened its mouth for the next verse as the kitchen door opened again. Slumping back into the frog pose, it stared again at Remus.

"Ribbit."

This time both Harry and Sirius hit the floor.

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Harry was sitting in the Great Hall, picking over his lunch. He found that he no longer felt much need to study. First off, even if he cared about the magical theory in all his books, that none of those rules even applied to him any more. For instance, he could apparate in and out of Hogwart's, completely disregarding the wards in and around the place.

True, it set the alarms to screaming every time he did it - aging Dumbledore another few years - but Harry just couldn't bring himself to care. He wanted to care. A little. Well... not very much. After the first couple of times, he even stopped bothering to put on 'his caring face'.

"Have at you!" Harry decided that right that moment - it being lunch time - was a perfect time to instigate a duel of sorts. So, he picked up a fork and headed over to the Ravenclaw table.

Luna Lovegood was sitting by herself, as was her habit. She was midway through her lunch of a delicious green salad when she spotted Harry Potter coming her way with a gleam in his eye. He seemed to be brandishing a fork.

"I challenge you to a duel, Lovegood!!"

Grinning widely, she picked up one of her forks and started to stand up. Harry jumped up on the table, scattering dishes and food. She followed him up and they saluted each other. With the forks.

The entire hall had gone quiet. The two of them were staring at eachother, smiling just a bit.

"Well. You seem a decent young lady Miss Lovegood. I hate to kill you." Harry's smile grew all the wider.

"You seem a decent young man, Mister Potter. I hate to die."

"Begin!"

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The two ran around the great hall, jabbing forks at one another, kicking food off of tables and just generally causing mayhem. Everyone else in the hall was quite honestly too stunned to even bother them - or had gotten up and fled in the face of such obvious madness.

They'd climbed on top of the Slytherin table and were inching backwards towards the far edge, Harry getting closer and closer to falling off the edge.

"You are wonderful!"

Eyes glittering in the candlelight, Luna responded appropriately "Thank you - I've worked hard to become so."

"I admit it - you are better than I am!" Harry was smiling like a loon as he said this.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't know."

"And what is that?"

"I am not left-handed." Harry twirled the fork around in his left hand for a moment before flipping it up into the air and catching it in his right. Giving his weapon a few test slashes for effect, and then lunging in to give Luna a bit of a poke with it. The battle began in earnest once again, this time with Harry doing most of the attacking and Luna giving ground steadily.

"You're amazing!" praised the blonde girl as she was forced onto the defensive in the face of a much greater skill now that Harry switched hands.

"I ought to be, after fifteen years of raising food to my face with these things."

Harry drove Luna back to the other end of the table, the tines of their silverware bound up together.

"There's something I ought to tell you, Mister Potter."

"Tell me."

"I am not left-handed either."

As Luna flicked her own fork up into the air, she smiled dreamily and pirouetted lazily on one foot. Harry stepped back, he face showing his admiration for her part in the playing.

Reaching her right hand up with a lazy wave, her fork dropped softly into it. Closing her eyes completely, Luna performed a gentle back walkover off the end of the table - her sense of balance perfect. Harry had to scramble off the side of the table to face her.

Locking forks once again, they resumed the battle with furious purpose, leaving the Great Hall while trading more of the script as they fought.

Neville Longbottom had been watching the entire affair with a bite of food halfway raised to his face. Setting his fork down at last, he just shook his head.

"Who knew."

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Floating hundreds of feet above Hogwart's under his own power, Harry was pondering the state of things. He'd come to the conclusion that ultimately, he could do exactly whatever it was he wanted - anything he could imagine. However it had happened, he had effectively become a being comprised entirely of willpower and magic. He supposed he might be able to simply smite Voldemort into dust - however, he really wasn't feeling much like it at the moment.

Flying down towards Ravenclaw tower, he found the window he wanted and rapped on it quietly. One of the fourth year girls looked up at him. It wasn't exactly curfew yet - though, it also wasn't standard practice for someone to be hovering outside one of the tower windows either. Especially a boy. An upside down boy.

He motioned over towards Luna and made a beckoning motion. The blonde looked up at her yearmate, and then spotted Harry outside the window. Closing the book she'd been reading, she came over and opened the window.

"Hello, Harry!"

"Hello, Luna! It's a lovely evening - would you like to come out for a bit of a float?"

Without another word, she hopped up onto the window sill, stepped out into open air and let herself fall.

Harry dipped around and caught her deftly around the waist in a warm hug.

"I knew I could trust you Harry. No fear."

Smiling widely, he propelled them both away from the body of the castle proper, out over the lake. The night mist was creeping along the surface of the water, passing a most, earthy smell up into the evening air. It came with a touch of chill, but the proximity of the two kept them plenty warm enough.

"Where should we go, Luna? I mean, we can go anywhere. Anywhere at all."

Harry looked into Luna's eyes as she stared up at him, considered what he had in his wallet, and made his decision.

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"Luna, I've never had a girlfriend before. So, I'm going to just give this a go."

Nodding over her mug of hot chocolate, Luna found herself smiling so widely that she thought her face might crack.

Harry considered himself for a moment. This ascension into magical dietyhood business was all well and good. He certainly felt no fear at all over what had happened to him, or what was to come. Considering Luna's background and habit of seeing what wasn't readily apparent to most everyone else, he found that he had grown kind of fond of the strange Ravenclaw. He knew that he could do much, much worse for himself than to date a friend.

"So, do you think you could date The-Boy-With-Hyphens?" It struck Harry as somewhat comedic. He'd just flown both himself and Luna from Scotland to Paris - stopping along the way to pick up a little bread and cheese, along with some chocolate. They'd then landed on the top of the Eiffel Tower, and were currently lounging in the observation deck - and as it was well after operating hours, they had the place to themselves.

Luna squinted at Harry just a bit, the corners of her eyes crinkling with mirth - the seriousness of the situation completely ruined by the big hot chocolate mustache she was now sporting. "I'd love to be your girlfriend, Harry Potter."

He laughed a bit, and handed her a napkin. "Brilliant! That's just brilliant!"

Now he had a dedicated partner in crime. Hogwart's had only just begun to see the madness.

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	14. Not a Willy or a Sam!

Disclaimer: I own nothing in the HP universe. I apologize in advance to Michael Flatley (well, only a little. Him and his little pirate blouse. Shirts that poufy? That's a blouse, mate.)

Let's see. Oh yeah. So, Voldy can possess Harry through the curse scar? Oh noes. Vengeful God of Magic Harry decides it's a 'two way street'. Biznatch.

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"I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am, I am!!"

Voldemort, the most terrifying dark lord in the last few centuries was standing on top of his gilded throne, singing at the very top of his lungs. The room was filled with Death Eaters, as he'd been in the middle of giving some kind of impassioned speech. That is, until he suddenly started moving around like a marionette on strings, doing a little jig in his chair and then launching into song.

"I got married to the widow next door!! She's been married seven times before! And every one was an Henry!!" The dark lord clapped loudly at the appropriate time while singing while doing his little dance.

Pausing, Voldemort looked out over the quiet crowd. Making eye contact with Lucius Malfoy, he yanked his wand out and wordlessly 'crucio'd the crap out of him.

"For those of you not paying attention, when I pause there, you're supposed to chime in with 'Henry!'. In fact, I don't want to get to the next crowd participation part and not have my proper accompaniement - when I pause the second time, it's 'Not a Sam!'"

Satisfied, he jammed his wand back up his sleeve and resumed singing.

"Wouldn't have a Willy or a Sam!!"

He stared balefully out at the group. He heard someone in the back quietly say 'not a Sam.'

"I'm her eighth old man I am, I'm Henry the Eighth I am!" Drawing a deep breath, he reared back and yelled at the ceiling, "Nine hundred and ninety ninth verse, same as the thousanth! I'm Henry the Eighth I am, Henry the Eighth I am, I am..."

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Harry was lounging in the Ravenclaw common room, humming some sort of tune that Luna didn't quite know and conducting along with his wand to some unseen orchestra. He had his eyes closed, and a goofy smile was stuck on his face.

"I've always thought Voldemort could do with a sense of humour. Why so serious?"

Luna giggled a bit, and went back to running bits of yarn through her toes. She was having a wonderful time. Harry was an amazing and attentive boyfriend and never treated her poorly. There was plenty of hand holding, flights around the castle or anywhere else that she wanted to go. This evening, though, Harry seemed like he was doing something - something terrifying.

Humming some more, Harry said quietly, "Eight hundred and sixty eighth verse, same as the eight hundredth and sixty ninth!"

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Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Severus Snape found himself teetering on the edge of madness. His dark lord and master seemed to have completely lost the remaining shreds of his sanity, having just spent the last six straight hours howling and singing as loud as he could - all the while firing the torture curse at anyone he caught not joining in.

It had been the most nerve wracking and horrifying night he could recall. His voice was scratchy and hoarse - not from the crucios, but from all the screaming and singing along. He was in the mood to torture some of his students as a way of taking out his own frustrations.

Croaking a quiet chuckle, "Oh yes. Longbottom is going to suffer. I guarantee it."

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It was a bright and early Monday morning, and Gryffindor shared their potions time with the Slytherins - which was by Dumbledore's design. The old headmaster had obviously inhaled one too many muggle sweets, and the strange preservatives in them had hit him with very serious mental issues.

Harry strolled into the class, just to see how badly Snape was tore up this morning. He'd forced Voldemort to do the most embarassing things. He found a spot, right in the front of the class and waited. The rest of the students filed in, Neville coming up to share Harry's station.

This suited the raven haired diety just fine. He started tapping out a little ditty on his cauldron and the desk. Then the urge to scat just a bit came over him. So he indulged.

In fact, Harry was so wrapped up in his rocking out that he completely failed to notice Snape stomping into class until the greasy haired professor slammed the door closed. The boy quieted down a bit, uninterested in provoking Snape just yet.

The feeling passed quickly, and as Snape strode past, Harry started humming the tune to the song he'd had Voldemort singing all night long the night before. Snape froze, stock still. Turning very, very slowly, the entire class could see that Snape had gone deathly pale as well as started shaking.

Harry kept humming, and increased the volume a little. Really, it was a catchy tune and he was hoping it took root in the minds of some of the other students. Particularly students with Death Eater parents.

"Potter." Snape was only barely keeping hold of his composure, "You will cease that infernal humming, or I will throw you out of this class."

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Harry came to a decision. "Professor Snape, you're right. You're so right. So so right! I'm going to leave." Harry got up and left with all speed. He'd just had another idea occur to him, and he needed to get in the right frame of mind to really enjoy it.

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Two days later, the fruits of Harry's labour were plain for the world to see on the front page of the Daily Prophet.

"Lord Voldemort IS the Lord of the Dance"

The headline came with an entire series of moving wizarding photos of a grinning Lord Voldemort twirling and spinning in his robes to some unseen music - an entire line of Death Eaters on either side of him, apparently stomping in time.

The wizarding world in Britain ground to a halt that day - mostly because anyone that saw the paper was incapable of coherent thought. There was a lot of chairs fallen out of, many tears of laughter shed, and a large number of 'spit takes'.

Sirius Black was checked into St. Mungos by a laughing Remus Lupin, citing 'extreme dehydration and asphyxia' from both laughing and crying over the paper for hours on end. They were forced to stun the poor Marauder and put him to bed lest he laugh himself to death.

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Harry and Dobby were in the room of requirement. They were also roaring drunk and laughing themselves hoarse. Harry had taken the paper and blown the front page up, stuck it to a wall, and had taken to dancing a jig in front of it, right along with the dark lord himself.

Wheezing, Harry slumped onto one of the couches. "Dobby, that was too good. Thanks for handling the camera work. I think that's exactly what the people needed. Something to laugh about. That and if RiddleMort is too busy dancing his bum off, he's not out causing trouble."

Dobby was giggling with a bottle of butterbeer in each hand. "It was my pleasure, Mister Harry sir. I'm sorry I couldn't get the snake up there dancing too."

"Silly! She doesn't have any legs! How's she going to dance?" He was punctuating his speech with the now empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand.

The two locked eyes and exclaimed together "I know what the Dark Lord's familiar is getting for Christmas!!"

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	15. Obliviate Me!

He opened his eyes.

This place appeared to be filled with all manner of things. Sculptures of people he didn't recognize, paintings of places he had no clue about, and little dangly bits that swung on or around on little wooden bobs. He wasn't really ever particularly sure what any of the bits were for. They did make for some pretty interesting watching though.

Settling into a large comfortable chair, he found himself staring at the things around him. He'd been doing this for an indeterminate amount of time. Sometimes, he'd get up out of the chair and try to sort out where he was or what he was doing there. Wandering out of the small building gave him absolutely no satisfaction either, as the plains around it were completely barren and featureless - stretching away from him as far as his eyes could see.

He was at least stimulated a little bit, by observing the things that seemed to have been arbitrarily placed around him in this otherwise empty place. None of these things gave him a single clue as to who he was or where - however he didn't much care about all of that. Not too much.

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Albus Dumbledore was widely regarded as one of the most powerful wizards in the world. He was a personage on par with the great Merlin himself - though, the larger population of the more modern world allowed him some degree of freedom that Merlin would not have had without a disguise. At this late stage in the aging wizard's life, a commonly told joke was that Dumbledore had forgotten more about magic than most entire wizarding families ever learn.

This couldn't be further from the truth. Albus Dumbledore never forgot anything. Ever. As a fledgeling wizard, Albus had come across some of the wizarding world's 'no no' list - and promptly chose to ignore it. Over the course of his life, he'd been victorious in every single conflict he'd entered into. Provided he'd wanted to win. It goes without saying that at times, it is wise to lull your enemies into a sense of safety or even superiority by giving in. Misdirection was a tool in Dumbledore's aresenal that he used to monumental effect.

Even now, he had the entire wizarding world firmly believing that he was some kind of virtuous paragon of light. The mere thought of it always made him snort - not so much that he was a bad person engaged in terrifying subterfuge. He was just a man. Certainly a powerful man - a wizard with almost no equal as well as a very effective public relations writer - but still just a man.

He intended, however, to live for a very long time, much like his friend Nicholas Flamel. The first rule of being an immortal is that while it's right and proper to be a powerful and influential wizard during the first century or so of your life, that in time all things wane. Humans are willing to overlook the fact that you don't have the decency to lay down and die for only so long before they come around and start complaining. Knowing that he was at the end of his effective tenure, Albus had been giving serious thought to grooming a successor. Tom Riddle had seemed ideal initially, but as time passed it became clear that the charismatic orphan had his sights set on something larger and altogether much more violent. The prophecy that linked the Potter child and Riddle together was a lucky bit of fate that allowed Albus to dispose, albiet temporarily, of Riddle. Now Dumbledore just needed to finish the job.

Striding into the long term care ward at St. Mungo's, Albus sniffed disdainfully. He'd never liked hospitals. The infirmity housed within turned his stomach and it was almost too much to bear. Sadly, he was on an errand of the utmost importance. Harry Potter had been laying in a coma for the last few months, and nobody could really answer why. There had been some kind of bad business under Hogwart's in the Chamber of Secrets. Gilderoy Lockhart, Ronald and Ginevra Weasley had all died in the mess, leaving him with an absolute mountain of paperwork to sort out. It had taken the staff a solid week to sift through the wreckage as the fight below had caused a terrifying cave-in and only at the end had someone noticed Harry's hand poking out of the rubble as well. Imagine the surprise when they also found that Harry was still alive - though, completely unresponsive.

Albus had some theories about the whole event, but was waiting to see what Harry had to say once he recovered. To that end, he was preparing another journey into the boy's mind. As frustrating as this whole endeavour was, the aged man found himself enjoying the challenge of exploring Harry's strange and featureless mindscape. He'd been wandering the flat plains for days on end, never finding so much a a scrub bush or insect. The ground was simple packed dirt, the sky a dull overcast gloom. Not too dark to see, not so bright you were forced to squint. The air temperature was mild, if a tad dry. Settling into a conjured chair, Dumbledore had a mediwitch prop Harry up so that they could both sit comfortably while he maintained eye contact.

"Legilimens," whispered the old man, as he dove once again into shimmering green eyes.

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He came to be, standing in the flat, featureless place that was all that seemed to exist in Harry's mind. Dumbledore quashed a sudden pang of futility that had come over him, picked a direction, and started walking. He knew that he only had a limited time in the boy's mind without risking burning them both out - the amount of power this mindscape must be taking to maintain was enormous. So too was the amount of his own power it required for him to explore it.

An interesting feature of this place was, even though the day was fairly bright - there was no sun or moon overhead actually casting light. That meant no shadows either, as the light was pervasive. Without really needing to, Albus squinted into the sky, sighing deeply. As he looked down at his feet, his heart began to hammer in his chest. Very faintly in the dust, he could see another, smaller set of footprints. He was so surprised by this, his knees actually went weak for a moment.

He then cast around furtively, looking to see if there was anything else - alive or dead - in the plains around him. Seeing nothing obvious, he gathered some of his robes in a hand and took off at a brisk trot. He followed the trail for a time before he was forced to slow his pace back down to a dignified but still respectable stride. Looking to the left and the right, he found himself almost running full on into the front door of a small shack he'd was certain hadn't been there before. The footprints led right to the doorstep.

Blinking moisture out of his eyes and taking a moment to catch his breath, Albus Dumbledore did the only thing he felt it appropriate to do in a situation like this.

He knocked.

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	16. slashy what?

"Get away from me."

"Come on Potter! You know full well how you feel about me!"

"Oh, I know exactly how I feel Malfoy. On a good day, it's mind annoyance mostly coupled with a kind of simmering hatred. However, with this new bit of information, my subconscious mind has discarded all pretense of dignity and has now opted for nausea." Harry had his back to the wall of the potions class and was sliding slowly towards the door in an attempt to get away from an overly amorous Draco Malfoy.

Tears glistened in the blonde boy's eyes as he continued, "But Harry..."

"Malfoy, if you so much as think about touching me again I swear I'll kick your ferret ass down a flight of stone stairs and tell everyone I found you that way." With that, Harry covered the last few feet towards the door. Heaving it open, he bolted through and tore off down the corridor like Voldemort himself was chasing him.

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"So you're saying that Draco came out to you, Harry?"

Nodding furiously while trying to catch his breath, Harry was trying to calm down in the face of one of the most horrific encounters of his life.

Looking thoughtful, Hermione continued, "Well, this comes as little surprise to me. You do realize that almost the entire wizarding population is gay or at least bisexual? That's why the population is so low. The ritual required for a transgendered witch or wizard to produce offspring is so complicated that it boggles the mind."

By this point, Harry had settled down enough to simply look incredulously at Hermione as she continued to explain. "Transwhat? Please forgive my lack of education in this area, Hermione - but are you telling me people...wizarding people are changing their genders?"

Nodding with a smile, the bushy haired girl continued, "Absolutely. The wizarding community at large uses magic to live however it is they please - and as such, there are a lot of families that would appear to be made up of same gender couples. Though in many cases, one of the pair has had some gender based transfigurations done on them. This is quite the vanity procedure, too."

Harry's eyes were rolling around in his head like they were on swivels. "I don't get it."

"Well, it appears to be a predominantly male proclivity, however..." Harry held up a hand to interrupt her.

"Hermione, I love you like the sister I've never had - but if you keep using words I can't understand, I'm likely as not to snap and start screaming."

With a wry grin she started again, "Lucius Malfoy didn't start out as a man, Harry. The books that outline pureblood lineage indicate that Lucius was originally a young lady - but that the Malfoy fortunes allowed 'him' to purchase both a gender transfiguration for himself, and a 'pregnancy' for Narcissa Black. That's why Draco looks like a clone of his father. He IS a clone of his father."

With a slow nod, Harry was looking thoughtful himself, "You know, that seems to make a little more sense to me now that you make me think about it. A lot of the male wizards I've met since coming to Hogwart's have all been very flirtatious towards me."

"Well Harry, you would be quite a catch for whomever lands you."

Harry had the decency to blush before responding, "Thanks Hermione. I'm only fourteen, and quite honestly, I'd like to at least finish school before worrying too much about that sort of thing. Hell, I'd like to finish this Tri-Wizard tournament before someone's nailed me to the floor with some kind of insane marriage proposal or something."

The two shared a good natured laugh before moving on to other classroom work and helping Harry prepare for his upcoming tasks.


	17. Obligatory shopping scene

Harry looked over the top of his dingy glasses at the mounds of gold in his vault, having a brief burst of insight.

"Hermione will know exactly what to do."

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The raven haired lad and his best friend sat down and made a shopping list, deciding on most everything Harry was going to need to completely divest himself of his old life with the Dursleys. There was only one place in London where they figured they'd be able to find everything they were going to need.

"Harrod's!" they exclaimed together.

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Four hours later, the both of them were exhausted, not having bought a single thing outside of an absurdly overpriced sandwich and fizzy grapefruit drink. They sat outside the monolithic department store, munching and going over their list.

"Harry, I hate to say it, but I think we're going to have to shop somewhere else." said the brown haired girl.

Nodding over a mouthful of food, Harry ran his other hand through his permanently messy hair, considering the situation. While true that Harrod's had everything under the sun, the products were all marked up in the extreme - and most of the sales staff wouldn't give the two teens a second glance without a sniff of distaste to go along with it. Regardless of the amount of money sitting in Harry's vaults, the simple fact is that if he tried to kit himself out completely inside the walls of Harrod's, that amount would shrink to almost nothing.

"I mean, did you see that trunk upstairs? Sixteen thousand pounds? Ludicrous!" ranted Hermione while Harry watched her, a bemused smile on his face. She was correct, of course, but before they left the place he had one last idea.

"Hermione," he began slowly, "you did see they had a Godiva chocolate bar in there, right...?" said Harry, a devilish smirk working its way onto his face.

Hermione's eye's fluttered shut for a moment, and she just hummed in response while licking her lips. 


End file.
